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Updated: May 12, 2025
Not that a crack-brained person like Ingeborg could know anything of Glory Goldie's movements; but she was one of the kind who sensed it in the air when something extraordinary was going to happen. She could see and hear things of which wise folk never had an inkling. Engineer Boraeus of Borg was in the habit of strolling down to the pier mornings to meet the steamer.
Beside him sat a tall, thin woman, who was talking so fast and excitedly that the words fairly spurted out of her mouth; she shook her head and snapped her eyes, her body bending forward all the while so that by the time she had finished speaking her face was on a level with the ground. Engineer Boraeus immediately recognized the woman as Mad Ingeborg.
Jan could not get her to listen to the fine speeches delivered by the Dean of Bro and Engineer Boraeus of Borg, in honour of the day. Why she would not even listen to Sexton Blackie's congratulatory poem! Anders Öster's clarinet could be heard from the house. Jan kept a firm grip on her hand all the while and no matter what excuse she would hit upon to break away, he never relaxed his hold.
Every time Engineer Boraeus went by he heard about the crown of gold the Empress would wear on her hair and the gold flowers that would spring into bloom on tree and bush the instant she set foot on land.
In that fine land of Portugallia there were only princes and generals, to be sure only richly dressed people. Mad Ingeborg in her old cotton headshawl and her knit jacket would naturally be out of place there. But Heavenly Father! the engineer actually thought Engineer Boraeus looked just then as if he would have liked to give Jan a needed lesson, but he only shrugged his shoulders.
Engineer Boraeus had a good outlook over Lake Löven from his chamber window at Borg. He could see when the steamer rounded the point and never appeared at the landing until just in the nick of time. Therefore he did not have to sit on the rocks and wait, and would only cast a glance, in passing, at those who were seated there.
For he had always been kind and good-natured and helpful, yet never before had he been honoured or fêted in the least degree for that. Engineer Boraeus on his daily stroll to the pier could not fail to notice the crowds that always gathered nowadays around the little old man from Ruffluck Croft.
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