umsy bodies. But all the same, the senator had a profound respect
for the old family of Ingmars, and would gladly have sacrificed his
own active exterior to be like Ingmar, and to become one of the
Ingmassons. He had always taken Ingmar's part against his own
daughter, so felt rather light of heart at being so well received.

In a while, when Mother Martha had brought the coffee, he began to
state his errand.

"I thought," he said, and cleared his throat. "I thought you had
best be told what we intend to do with Brita." The cup which Mother
Martha held in her hand shook a little, and the teaspoon rattled in
the saucer. Then there was a painful silence. "We have been
thinking that the best thing we could do would be to send her to
America." He made another pause, only to be met by the same ominous
silence. He sighed at the thought of these unresponsive people.
"Her ticket has already been purchased."

"She will come home first, of course," said Ingmar.

"No; what would she be doing there?"

Again Ingmar was silent. He sat with his eyes nearly closed, as if
he were half asleep.

Then Mother Martha took a turn at asking questions. "She'll be
needing clothes, won't she?"

"All that has been attended to; there is a trunk, ready packed, at
Loevberg's place, where we always stop when we come to town."

"Her mother will be there to meet her, I suppose?"

"Well, no. She would like to, but I think it best that they be
spared a meeting."

"Maybe so."

"The ticket and some money are waiting for her at Loevberg's, so
that she will have everything she needs. I felt that Ingmar ought
to know of it, so he won't have this burden on his mind any longer,"
said the senator.

Then Mother Martha kept still, too. Her headkerchief had slipped
back, and she sat gazing down at her apron.

"Ingmar should be looking about for a new wife."

Both mother and son persistently held their peace.

"Mother Martha needs a helper in this big household. Ingmar should
see to it that she has some comfort in her old age." The senator
paused a moment, wondering if they could have heard what he said.
"My wife and I wanted to make everything right again," he declared
finally.

In the meantime, a sense of great relief had come to Ingmar. Brita
was going to America, and he would not have to marry her. After all
a murderess was not to become the mistress of the old Ingmar home.
He had kept still, thinking it was not the thing to show at once
ho