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Updated: June 11, 2025
Wasn't that the darndest get-up he had on!" Kennicott scratched at a white smear on his hard gray sleeve. "It wasn't so bad. I wonder where he comes from? He seems to have lived in cities a good deal. Is he from the East?" "The East? Him? Why, he comes from a farm right up north here, just this side of Jefferson. I know his father slightly Adolph Valborg typical cranky old Swede farmer."
Not that they've had the nerve to do much tattling to me, but they've hinted around a lot, and anyway, I could see for myself that you liked him. But of course I knew how cold you were, I knew you wouldn't stand it even if Valborg did try to hold your hand or kiss you, so I didn't worry.
Kennicott was cordial to Fern Mullins, teased her, told her he was a "great hand for running off with pretty school-teachers," and promised that if the school-board should object to her dancing, he would "bat 'em one over the head and tell 'em how lucky they were to get a girl with some go to her, for once." But to Erik Valborg he was not cordial. He shook hands loosely, and said, "H' are yuh."
He also saw visions in pipe-smoke, and was very brave and poor and pure. He had ringlets, and his masterpiece was strangely like an enlarged photograph. Carol prepared to leave. On the screen, in the role of a composer, appeared an actor called Eric Valour. She was startled, incredulous, then wretched. Looking straight out at her, wearing a beret and a velvet jacket, was Erik Valborg.
That destination was not Erik Valborg and the love of Erik. She continued to assure herself that she wasn't in love with him but merely "fond of him, and interested in his success." Yet in him she had discovered both her need of youth and the fact that youth would welcome her.
Kennicott grumbled on their way home, "You and this Valborg fellow seem quite chummy." "Oh, we are. He's interested in Myrtle Cass, and I was telling him how nice she is." In her room she marveled, "I have become a liar. I'm snarled with lies and foggy analyses and desires I who was clear and sure." She hurried into Kennicott's room, sat on the edge of his bed.
"As far as I'm concerned, I'll say she's as nice a looking skirt as there is in town. But yow!" His tone electrified them. "Guess she'll miss that Swede Valborg that used to work for me! They was a pair! Talking poetry and moonshine! If they could of got away with it, they'd of been so darn lovey-dovey "
Valborg." "Oh, dear me, he's got a button unbuttoned," worried Erik, kneeling. Carol frowned, then noted the strength with which he swung the baby in the air. "May I walk along a piece with you?" "I'm tired. Let's rest on those ties. Then I must be trotting back."
Before becoming a dramatic critic, he had essayed dramatic authorship, and the acceptance by the theatre of his juvenile play, "Valborg," had led to a somewhat unusual result. He was given a free ticket of admission, and a few weeks of theatre-going opened his eyes to the defects of his own accepted work, which he withdrew before it had been inflicted upon the public.
Carol felt that she was expected to explain; and while she was mentally asserting that she'd be hanged if she'd explain, she was explaining: "Hugh captured that Valborg boy up the track. They became such good friends. And I talked to him for a while. I'd heard he was eccentric, but really, I found him quite intelligent. Crude, but he reads reads almost the way Dr. Westlake does." "That's fine.
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