ll never
teach us anything that isn't just right. He does a good bit of work,
father says, and he knows."

The little girl was evidently accustomed to be listened to, and did not
stand in awe of this stranger or any other.

"I shall pay you both if you hold still awhile and let me take your
picture; and that will be just as well for Uncle Pelle as cutting
grain, and lighter work, too. You can talk if you want to, but you
must not stir while I am making a real likeness of you."

"As the young lady pleases," said the old man, with a look of
resignation. "I want to be useful."

"Is that your uncle, child?" asked the young artist. "I thought, of
course, it was your grandfather." Then looking towards the old man she
added, "Do you live here?" and she nodded towards the golden house.

"I don't live anywhere," said the old man sorrowfully. "The poorhouse
in Aneholm parish and the poorhouse in Tomtebacke, some way from here,
can't agree which should keep me, and now they are lawing about it.
I've had a fever, and I seem to be broke down. I don't belong anywhere
just now, but Karin there in the house says I'm a kind of relation of
hers, though it puzzles me to see how. She wants me to stay with them
till all is settled; and Jan, who mostly lets her have her way, tells
me he hasn't anything against it. So you see I like to do a turn of
work if I can, if it's only to show I'm thankful. Karin says she's
used to a big family, and it seems lonesome since her oldest son went
to America, and I must take his place. I don't live in the cottage.
There are enough of 'em there without me. They've fixed me up a place
alongside of Star--that's the cow."

"It's a dear little room," said the child, "and we all like to be
there; but Uncle Pelle shuts the door sometimes, and won't let us in."

"Old folks must have their quiet spells," said the old man
apologetically.

"It isn't just to be quiet, you know, Uncle Pelle. Mother says Uncle
Pelle reads good books when he is alone, and makes good prayers, too;
and he's a blessing to the family," said the little girl, who seemed to
consider herself the friend and patron of her companion.

"She's a bit spoiled. The only girl, you see. There were six boys
before, not counting Nono or the two boys that died."

"Nono!" exclaimed the stranger. "That was the name of the little brown
baby I saw baptized in Aneholm church, eight years ago, when I was at
home before, just for a few da