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Still carrying the helpless dog, Nils pressed on through the hills, and I followed close behind. At last, in front of us, rose a slope of moor touching the white stars. We climbed it wearily, reached the top, and found ourselves gazing down into a great, smooth valley, filled half way to the brim with what?
He brings me luck." This was a standing dispute between Nils and Inga, his wife, and they never came to an agreement. She knew as well as her husband that before little Hans was born there was want and misery in their cottage. But from the hour the child lifted up its tiny voice, announcing its arrival, there had been prosperity and contentment.
But when she saw Karen's wistful look, she turned quickly to her friends and said, "Let me, instead, choose the queen; and I will choose Karen Klasson. I want this to be the happiest day of all the year for her." "One queen is as good as another," said Nils Jorn cheerfully; so they led Karen back to the May-pole and she was made queen of the festival and crowned with green leaves.
Now voices are calling again for the couple by the flagstaff; the Captain throws out an impatient "Yes!" but does not move. Now he brushes a speck of dust from Elisabet's shoulder; now, looking round carefully, he lays one hand on her arm and tells her something earnestly. Says Nils: "They've always such a lot to talk about, those two. She never comes here but they go off for long walks together."
"I didn't expect you'd be up so early, Nils," he said, as his head emerged from his blue shirt. "Oh, you thought I was a dude, did you?" Nils gave him a playful tap which bent the tall boy up like a clasp knife. "See here: I must teach you to box." Nils thrust his hands into his pockets and walked about. "You haven't changed things much up here. Got most of my old traps, haven't you?"
Joe Vavrika said that Fritz could have managed the pickles all right, but he had sampled the demijohn in his buggy too often before sitting down to the table. While the supper was being cleared away the two fiddlers began to tune up for the dance. Clara was to accompany them on her old upright piano, which had been brought down from her father's. By this time Nils had renewed old acquaintances.
"Here's the other scarecrow coming up, too," says Lars, "and he's a long sight worse than you." "What's that you say?" said Nils. "What's that you say!" retorted Lars. "You go home and rinse your mouth with a mixture or something, and see if you can talk plain," said he. Nils stopped short at this, and came up to see what it was all about. "I don't know what you're talking about," said he.
I must have been about twelve years old, and Nils Sjöberg, whose father's estate joined ours, was a few months younger. We were inseparable just at that time, and whatever we did, we did together. "Once a week it was market day in Engelholm, and Nils and I went always there to see the strange sights that the market gathered from all the surrounding country.
I not like-a dat. Play quick somet'ing gay now." Nils put his lips to the instrument, and Joe lay back in his chair, laughing and singing, "Oh, Evelina, Sweet Evelina!" Clara laughed, too. Long ago, when she and Nils went to high school, the model student of their class was a very homely girl in thick spectacles.
When he reached the gate the front of the house was dark, but a light was shining from the side windows. The pigs were squealing in the hog corral, and Nils could see a tall boy, who carried two big wooden buckets, moving about among them. Halfway between the barn and the house, the windmill wheezed lazily.
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