ll, she has a fair half section in her own
name, but I can't see as that does Olaf much good. She will have a
good deal of property some day, if old Vavrika don't marry again.
But I don't consider a saloonkeeper's money as good as other
people's money."

Nils laughed outright. "Come, Mother, don't let your prejudices
carry you that far. Money's money. Old Vavrika's a mighty decent
sort of saloonkeeper. Nothing rowdy about him."

Mrs. Ericson spoke up angrily: "Oh, I know you always stood up for
them! But hanging around there when you were a boy never did you any
good, Nils, nor any of the other boys who went there. There weren't
so many after her when she married Olaf, let me tell you. She knew
enough to grab her chance."

Nils settled back in his seat. "Of course I liked to go there,
Mother, and you were always cross about it. You never took the
trouble to find out that it was the one jolly house in this country
for a boy to go to. All the rest of you were working yourselves to
death, and the houses were mostly a mess, full of babies and washing
and flies. Oh, it was all right--I understand that; but you are
young only once, and I happened to be young then. Now, Vavrika's was
always jolly. He played the violin, and I used to take my flute, and
Clara played the piano, and Johanna used to sing Bohemian songs. She
always had a big supper for us--herrings and pickles and poppyseed
bread, and lots of cake and preserves. Old Joe had been in the army
in the old country, and he could tell lots of good stories. I can
see him cutting bread, at the head of the table, now. I don't know
what I'd have done when I was a kid if it hadn't been for the
Vavrikas, really."

"And all the time he was taking money that other people had worked
hard in the fields for," Mrs. Ericson observed.

"So do the circuses, Mother, and they're a good thing. People ought
to get fun for some of their money. Even father liked old Joe."

"Your father," Mrs. Ericson said grimly, "liked everybody."

As they crossed the sand creek and turned into her own place, Mrs.
Ericson observed, "There's Olaf's buggy. He's stopped on his way
from town." Nils shook himself and prepared to greet his brother,
who was waiting on the porch.

Olaf was a big, heavy Norwegian, slow of speech and movement. His
head was large and square, like a block of wood. When Nils, at a
distance, tried to remember what his brother looked like, he could
recall only his heavy head, hig