e haven't overslept."

But as they looked around more carefully, they noticed that the
streams were clear of ice, grass blades and crocuses beeped out
from their beds of soil, and under their own ark the sap was
running. "Spring is here at all events," said the trees, "so it
was well we awoke. We have slept long enough for this year; now
it's high time we were getting dressed."

So the birches hurriedly put on some sticky pale green leaves, and
the maples a few green flowers. The leaves of the alder came forth
in such a crinkly and unfinished state that they looked quite
malformed, but the slender leave: of the willow slipped out of
their buds smooth and shapely from the start.

Gertrude smiled to herself as she walked along and thought this
up. She only wished she had been alone with Ingmar so she could
have told it all to him.

They had a long way to go to get to the Ingmar Farm--more than an
hour's tramp. They followed the riverside; all the while Gertrude
kept walking a little behind the others. Her fancy had begun to
play around the red glow of the sunset, which flamed now above the
river, now above the strand. Gray alder and green birch were
enveloped by the shimmer, flashing red one instant, the next taking
on their natural hues.

Suddenly Ingmar stopped, and broke off in the middle of something
he was telling.

"What's the matter, Ingmar?" asked Gunhild.

Ingmar, pale as a ghost, stood gazing at something in front of him.
The others saw only a wide plain covered with grain fields and
encircled by a range of hills, and in the centre of the plain a big
farmstead. At that moment the glow of sunset rested upon the farm;
all the window pans glittered, and the old roofs and walls had a
bright red glimmer about them.

Gertrude promptly stepped up to the others, and after a quick
glance at Ingmar, she drew Gunhild and Gabriel aside.

"We mustn't question him about anything around here," she said
under her breath. "That place over yonder is the Ingmar Farm. The
sight of it has probably made him sad. He hasn't been at home in
two years--not since he lost all his money."

The road which they had taken was the one leading past the farm
and down to Strong Ingmar's cabin, at the edge of the forest.

Soon Ingmar came running after, calling, "Hadn't we better go this
way instead?" Then he led them in on a bypath that wound around the
edge of the forest, and by which they could reach the cabin without
having to c