He felt a violent impulse to run forward and throw himself on his
knees in the dust before her. But he dared not, and his feet refused
their service.

They came to Kankaala.

The porch seemed glowering at them like a questioning eye as they came
up. Olof started, and the blood rushed to his head.

"Who comes here?" queried the porch. "'Tis the mistress of Koskela,
or should be. And who is it walks behind, hanging his head? Surely not
her son?"

"Ay, 'tis her son, never fear," said the broad window above, grinning
all the length of the wall. "The son of the house been seeing his
light-o'-love, and his mother brings him home!"

"H'm," said the porch. "'Twas not that mother's way to go seeking her
sons, nor ever need of it before."

Olof's head dropped again.

Heavily the old woman trudged up Seppala hill.

"Who's this out and abroad so late?" creaked the wooden pail in its
chain above the well. "Mother and son? And what's the mischief now?"

Olof felt the ground quaking beneath his feet.

They were nearly home now. Musti the house-dog came to meet them,