s if death had brought them
joy instead of grief.

Jan winced when he heard that Linnart Hindrickson had called him a
beggar. But he understood of course that it was simply because he
had not worn his imperial cap or carried his stick when he went up
to the forest. This brought him back to his present dilemma. Surely
he had waited long enough! He should have been called by this time.
This would never do!

He rose at once, resolutely crossed the room into the hallway,
climbed the stairs, and opened the door to the big dining-hall. He
saw at a glance that the dinner was already on; every place at the
large horseshoe table was occupied and the first course had been
served. Then it was not meant that he should be among the elect,
for there sat the pastor, the sexton, the lieutenant from Loevdala
and his lady--there sat every one who should be there, except
himself.

One of the young girls who passed around the food rushed over to
Jan the instant he appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing
here, Jan?" she said in a low voice. "Go down with you!"

"But my good hostess!" Jan protested, "Emperor Johannes of
Portugallia should be present at the first sitting."

"Oh, shut up, Jan!" said the girl. "This is not the proper time to
come with your nonsense. Go down, and you'll get something to eat
when your turn comes."

It so happened that Jan entertained a greater regard for this
particular household than for any other in the parish; therefore it
would have been very gratifying to him to be received here in a
manner befitting his station. A strange feeling of despondency came
over him as he stood down by the door, cap in hand; he felt that
all his imperial grandeur was falling from him. Then, in the middle
of this sore predicament, he heard Linnart Hindrickson exclaim:

"Why, there stands the fellow who came to me last Sunday and told
me that father was sick!"

"What are you saying?" questioned the mother. "But are you certain
as to that?"

"Of course I am. It can't be any one but he. I've seen him before
to-day, but I didn't recognize him in that queer get-up. However I
see now that he's the man."

"If he is our man, he mustn't be allowed to stand down by the door,
like a beggar," said the old housewife. "In that case, we must make
room for him at the table. Him we owe both honour and thanks, for
it was he who sent comfort to Bjoern in his last hours, while to me
he has brought the only consolation that can light