one with Anders. Olaf is their guardeen."

There was a clatter of pails on the porch, and a tall, lanky
boy peered wonderingly in through the screen door. He had a
fair, gentle face and big grey eyes, and wisps of soft yellow
hair hung down under his cap. Nils sprang up and pulled
him into the kitchen, hugging him and slapping him on the
shoulders. "Well, if it isn't my kid! Look at the size of him!
Don't you know me, Eric?"

The boy reddened tinder his sunburn and freckles, and hung his
head. "I guess it's Nils," he said shyly.

"You're a good guesser," laughed Nils giving the lad's hand a
swing. To himself he was thinking: "That's why the little girl
looked so friendly. He's taught her to like me. He was only six
when I went away, and he's remembered for twelve years."

Eric stood fumbling with his cap and smiling. "You look just
like I thought you would," he ventured.

"Go wash your hands, Eric," called Mrs. Ericson. "I've got
cob corn for supper, Nils. You used to like it. I guess you don't
get much of that in the old country. Here's Hilda; she'll take you
up to your room. You'll want to get the dust off you before you
eat."

Mrs. Ericson went into the dining-room to lay another plate,
and the little girl came up and nodded to Nils as if to let him
know that his room was ready. He put out his hand and she took it,