"Which Ericson?" The old man drew in his reins as if he expected
to stop again.

"Preacher Ericson's."

"Oh, the Old Lady Ericson's!" He turned and looked at Nils.
"La, me! If you're goin' out there you might a' rid out in the
automobile. That's a pity, now. The Old Lady Ericson was in town
with her auto. You might 'a' heard it snortin' anywhere about the
post-office er the butcher shop."

"Has she a motor?" asked the stranger absently.

"'Deed an' she has! She runs into town every night about this
time for her mail and meat for supper. Some folks say she's afraid
her auto won't get exercise enough, but I say that's jealousy."

"Aren't there any other motors about here?"

"Oh, yes! we have fourteen in all. But nobody else gets
around like the Old Lady Ericson. She's out, rain er shine, over
the whole county, chargin' into town and out amongst her farms, an'
up to her sons' places. Sure you ain't goin' to the wrong place?"
He craned his neck and looked at Nils' flute case with eager
curiosity. "The old woman ain't got any piany that I knows on.
Olaf, he has a grand. His wife's musical: took lessons in
Chicago."

"I'm going up there tomorrow," said Nils imperturbably. He
saw that the driver took him for a piano tuner.