to be glad to see me, if you want something to happen. I'm
something, even without a will. We can have a little fun, can't
we? I think we can!"

She echoed him, "I think we can!" They both laughed and their
eyes sparkled. Clara Vavrika looked ten years younger than when
she had put the velvet ribbon about her throat that morning.

"You know, I'm so tickled to see mother," Nils went on. "I
didn't know I was so proud of her. A regular pile driver. How
about little pigtails, down at the house? Is Olaf doing the square
thing by those children?"

Clara frowned pensively. "Olaf has to do something that looks
like the square thing, now that he's a public man!" She glanced
drolly at Nils. "But he makes a good commission out of it. On
Sundays they all get together here and figure. He lets Peter and
Anders put in big bills for the keep of the two boys, and he pays
them out of the estate. They are always having what they call
accountings. Olaf gets something out of it, too. I don't know
just how they do it, but it's entirely a family matter, as they
say. And when the Ericsons say that--" Clara lifted her eyebrows.

Just then the angry honk-honk of an approaching motor
sounded from down the road. Their eyes met and they began to
laugh. They laughed as children do when they can not contain
themselves, and can not explain the cause of their mirth to grown
people, but share it perfectly together. When Clara Vavrika sat
down at the piano after he was gone, she felt that she had laughed
away a dozen years. She practised as if the house were burning