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I have the wild rosehip, and the flat shield of the moonwort, and a pea-pod, and more whose names I know not. But should they all be seed and fruit?" "Yea, truly, my Stina, for this wreath shall speak of the goodly fruits of a completed life." "Even as that which you carved in spring told of the blossom and fair promise of youth," returned the maiden.
"He doesn't have to stay here and witness this miserable business. But the Ingmarssons never behave like other folks." The hammer then fell for the first sale. Ingmar started as if it had caught him; but in a moment he again became motionless. But at every ring of the hammer a shudder went through him. Two peasant women passed just in front of Mother Stina; they were talking about Ingmar. "Think!
And next to Erik sat his wife Stina, a short, fat little woman, with such a merry face and happy-looking eyes that you could hardly believe that she had lived on anything but the best herring and potatoes and rye-bread all her life.
He had experienced things in the course of the day which he felt the need of telling to some one who would understand. Storm and Mother Stina were deeply grieved, for they had already heard that Ingmar Ingmarsson was dead. The clergyman, on the other hand, looked almost radiant as he stepped into the schoolmaster's kitchen. Immediately Storm asked the pastor if he had been in time.
The peasant women gathered around all these old treasures, picking them up and turning them over. Mother Stina had not intended to buy anything, when she remembered that there was supposed to be a loom here on which could be woven the finest damask, and went up to look for it.
"Nay, I should deem myself in disgrace with you, did you keep me at a distance, and not THOU me, as your little Stina," she fondly answered, half regretting her fond eager movement, as Ebbo seemed to shrink together with a gesture perceived by her uncle. "It is my young lord there who would not forgive the freedom," he said, good-humouredly, though gravely.
Mother Stina suddenly jumped to her feet as if to cry out that this thing must be stopped; then she sat down again. "I mustn't forget that I'm only a poor old woman," she sighed. All at once there was a dead silence, which made Mother Stina look up. The silence was due to the sudden appearance of Karin, who had just come out from the house.
Mother Stina seemed to see the old Ingmarssons driving slowly in these old sleighs, going to a party or coming home from a church wedding, with a bride seated beside them. "Many good people are leaving the parish," she sighed. For to her it was as if all the old Ingmars had gone on living at the farm up to that very day, when their implements and their old carts and sleds were being hawked about.
"Yes," he said, "but on this occasion I was not needed." "Weren't you?" said Mother Stina. "No," answered the pastor with a mysterious smile. "He would have got on just as well without me. Sometimes it is very hard to sit by a deathbed," he added. "It is indeed," nodded the schoolmaster. "Particularly when the one who is passing from among us happens to be the best man in your parish." "Just so."
Ingmar stood a long time holding out the watch; finally, he glanced appealingly at Mother Stina. "Blessed are the peacemakers," she said. Then Storm put in a word. "I don't thick you could ask for a better amend, Halvor," he said. "I've always maintained that if Ingmar Ingmarsson had lived he would have given you full justice long before this."
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