The mother's hands trembled, and she sighed. But for a long while she
said no word, only sat looking as before out into vague distance, as
if seeking what to say.

"Ay," she said at last, "'tis right to marry where you love, and no
other. But a servant-girl--there's none of our race ever married that
way before. And as for love--you're over young to know."

Olof flushed angrily, and he would have spoken, but the noble dignity
of his mother's glance checked the thought ere it was uttered.

"Go now," she said gently. "We will talk of this another time."




FATHER AND SON


The early meal was over, and the farm hands pressed out through the
door.

"You, Olof, stay behind," said the master of Koskela from his seat at
the head of the table. "I've a word to say to you."

Olof felt his cheeks tingling. He knew what his father had to say--he
had been waiting for this.

The three were alone now--his mother stood by the stove. "Sit down,"