ake you up to Anders' place this morning.
He's threshing, and most of our boys are over there."

"Will Olaf be there?"

Mrs. Ericson went on taking out the ashes, and spoke between shovels.
"No; Olaf's wheat is all in, put away in his new barn. He got six
thousand bushel this year. He's going to town today to get men to finish
roofing his barn."

"So Olaf is building a new barn?" Nils asked absently.

"Biggest one in the county, and almost done. You'll likely be here for
the barn-raising. He's going to have a supper and a dance as soon as
everybody's done threshing. Says it keeps the voters in good humour. I
tell him that's all nonsense; but Olaf has a head for politics."

"Does Olaf farm all Cousin Henrik's land?"

Mrs. Ericson frowned as she blew into the faint smoke curling up about
the cobs. "Yes; he holds it in trust for the children, Hilda and her
brothers. He keeps strict account of everything he raises on it, and
puts the proceeds out at compound interest for them."

Nils smiled as he watched the little flames shoot up. The door of the
back stairs opened, and Hilda emerged, her arms behind her, buttoning
up her long gingham apron as she came. He nodded to her gaily, and she
twinkled at him out of her little blue eyes, set far apart over her wide
cheekbones.

"There, Hilda, you grind the coffee--and just put in an extra handful;
I expect your Cousin Nils likes his strong," said Mrs. Ericson, as she
went out to the shed.

Nils turned to look at the little girl, who gripped the coffee grinder
between her knees and ground so hard that her two braids bobbed and her
face flushed under its broad spattering of freckles. He noticed on her
middle finger something that had not been there last night, and that had
evidently been put on for company: a tiny gold ring with a clumsily set
garnet stone. As her hand went round and round he touched the ring with
the tip of his finger, smiling.

Hilda glanced toward the shed door through which Mrs. Ericson had
disappeared. "My Cousin Clara gave me that," she whispered bashfully.
"She's Cousin Olaf's wife."

III

Mrs. Olaf Ericson--Clara Vavrika, as many people still called her--was
moving restlessly about her big bare house that morning. Her husband had
left for the county town before his wife was out of bed--her lateness
in rising was one of the many things the Ericson family had against her.
Clara seldom came downstairs before eight o'cl