Lasse thought there was some, and went to see. "No, not a drop,"
he said, returning with the bottle. "But I've got something for
you here that your mother asked me to give you as a keepsake. It
was lucky I happened to remember it." And he handed her a packet,
and looked on happily while she opened it, feeling pleased on her
account. It was a hymn-book. "Isn't it a beauty?" he said. "With
a gold cross and clasp--and then, it's your mother's."

"What's the good of that to me?" asked Johanna. "I don't sing
hymns."

"Don't you?" said Lasse, hurt. "But your mother has never known but
that you've kept the faith you had as a child, so you must forgive
her this once."

"Is that all you've got for me?" she asked, pushing the book off
her lap.

"Yes, it is," said Lasse, his voice trembling; and he picked up
the book.

"Who's going to have the rest, then?"

"Well, the house was leased, and there weren't many things left, for
it's a long time since your father died, remember. Where you should
have been, strangers have filled the daughter's place; and I suppose
those who've looked after her will get what there is. But perhaps
you'd still be in time, if you took the first steamer."