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He probably had not been able to force his way through the heavy drifts and the wild storm which was still raging. The cellar-master was a late sleeper. He woke now to see Johanson hurrying about, evidently making ready for a trip. "What are you doing? You are letting the cold in here, sir," said the old fellow, only half awake. "The poet is missing. He didn't come home last night.
Birger, who seemed in some doubt, bade them to retire and turned to Sir Knut Johanson, asking if he would assist in making prisoners of the dukes. "I will not, my lord," said Sir Knut. "Whoever has counselled you to do this is leading you into a great treachery. What, would you deceive and murder your brothers who came here trusting in your good faith? The devil himself must be your tempter.
Of versification he considered himself the inventor, and as having therefore an exclusive right to use it, in conversation or on paper. At last Johanson made up his mind what course to pursue in the matter.
Julietta Hyde and Estelle Adler were reading a book of Indian legends and making a study of Indian symbols. Harriet Newcomb and Azalia Atwood were studying the Camp Fire hand-sign language. Ernestine Johanson and Ethel Zimmerman were crocheting some luncheon sets. Ruth Hazelton and Helen Nash were mending their ceremonial gowns.
Elsa lifted up her loving hand to Johanson's face as it was bent over the book, and with her own little handkerchief wiped his tears; then she went out silently, which was probably the best thing she could have done under the circumstances. The next day Johanson went to the pastor in his study. "I have not come to talk about my fitness for confirmation," he said. "Little Elsa has taught me better.
Of course, the whole troop from without, boys and girls, followed, taking opposite sides of the room. It proved that Johanson had taken his seat on the girls' side, and carefully away from him the skirts of those nearest to him were drawn; for it had been whispered around the parish that the queer man at the poorhouse had never been confirmed.
These were the quarters Johanson was to share with the broad-chested man in a big chair, who sat with a stout stick beside him, as if ready at any moment to meet the attack of a roving marauder. "This is our cellar-master, Who lived faster and faster, Till here with us he had to be. It's Johanson who comes with me; He'll share your room, at least to-night, And longer if you treat him right."
He was getting a little impatient to see the fresh faces he was expecting at the first meeting of the class, when Johanson made his appearance, bowed distantly, and took the seat nearest the door. He had passed through a knot of young people without, who were, with some cuffing and shoving, contending who should go in first on this to them august occasion.
"Perhaps I could find time to teach you privately, though it is a busy season, with all the certificates of removal and that kind of thing," said the pastor doubtfully. "I would rather be taught as you teach these young people," said Johanson. "Please try to forget that I am not a boy." That was a hard duty to impose on the pastor, who looked into the browned face and the troubled dark eyes.
There was only an inhospitable grunt from the gouty, red-faced man whose biography had been more justly than politely abridged for the new-comer. Johanson had no luggage to deposit. He thanked his conductor for the trouble he had taken, and then seated himself on a wooden chair on his side of the room, and had evidently no further need of his guide, who promptly disappeared.
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