r Nils heard exactly how much land each of his eight
grown brothers farmed, how their crops were coming on, and how much
live stock they were feeding. His mother watched him narrowly as she
talked. "You've got better looking, Nils," she remarked abruptly,
whereupon he grinned and the children giggled. Eric, although he was
eighteen and as tall as Nils, was always accounted a child, being
the last of so many sons. His face seemed childlike, too, Nils
thought, and he had the open, wandering eyes of a little boy. All
the others had been men at his age.

After supper Nils went out to the front porch and sat down on the
step to smoke a pipe. Mrs. Ericson drew a rocking-chair up near him
and began to knit busily. It was one of the few old-world customs
she had kept up, for she could not bear to sit with idle hands.

"Where's little Eric, Mother?"

"He's helping Hilda with the dishes. He does it of his own will; I
don't like a boy to be too handy about the house."

"He seems like a nice kid."

"He's very obedient."

Nils smiled a little in the dark. It was just as well to shift the
line of conversation. "What are you knitting there, Mother?"

"Baby stockings. The boys keep me busy." Mrs. Ericson chuckled and
clicked her needles.

"How many grandchildren have you?"

"Only thirty-one now. Olaf lost his three. They were sickly, like
their mother."

"I supposed he had a second crop by this time!"

"His second wife has no children. She's too proud. She tears about
on horseback all the time. But she'll get caught up with, yet. She
sets herself very high, though nobody knows what for. They were low
enough Bohemians she came of. I never thought much of Bohemians;
always drinking."

Nils puffed away at his pipe in silence, and Mrs. Ericson knitted
on. In a few moments she added grimly: "She was down here to-night,
just before you came. She'd like to quarrel with me and come between
me and Olaf, but I don't give her the chance. I suppose you'll be
bringing a wife home some day."

"I don't know. I've never thought much about it."

"Well, perhaps it's best as it is," suggested Mrs. Ericson
hopefully. "You'd never be contented tied down to the land. There
was roving blood in your father's family, and it's come out in you.
I expect your own way of life suits you best." Mrs. Ericson had
dropped into a blandly agreeable tone which Nils well remembered. It
seemed to amuse him a good deal and his white teeth flashed behind
h