“Well, why doesn’t he see that, then, and treat me as a man ought to be treated?” exclaimed John; “he thinks I’m no older than when he used to beat me with the strap.”

“I think fathers and mothers are always that way,” said the gentle, cheery Carlen, with a low laugh.  “The mother tells me each time how to wind the warp, as she did when I was little; and she will always look into the churn for herself.  I think it is the way we are made.  We will do the same when we are old, John, and our children will be wondering at us!”

John laughed.  This was always the way with Carlen.  She could put a man in good humor in a few minutes, however cross he felt in the beginning.

“I won’t, then!” he exclaimed.  “I know I won’t.  If ever I have a son grown, I’ll treat him like a son grown, not like a baby.”

“May I be there to see!” said Carlen, merrily,—­

  “And you remember free
  The words I said to thee.

“Hold the candle here for me, will you, that’s a good boy.  While we have talked, my yarn has tangled.”

As they stood close together, John holding the candle high over Carlen’s head, she bending over the tangled yarn, the kitchen door opened suddenly, and their father came in, bringing with him a stranger,—­a young man seemingly about twenty-five years of age, tall, well made, handsome, but with a face so melancholy that both John and Carlen felt a shiver as they looked upon it.

“Here now comes de hand, at last of de time, Johan,” cried the old man.  “It vill be that all can vel be done now.  And it is goot that he is from mine own country.  He cannot English speak, many vords; but dat is nothing; he can vork.  I tolt you dere vould be mans come!”

John looked scrutinizingly at the newcomer.  The man’s eyes fell.

“What is your name?” said John.

“Wilhelm Ruetter,” he answered.

“How long have you been in this country?”

“Ten days.”

“Where are your friends?”

“I haf none.”

“None?”

“None.”

These replies were given in a tone as melancholy as the expression of the face.

Carlen stood still, her wheel arrested, the yarn between her thumb and ringer, her eyes fastened on the stranger’s face.  A thrill of unspeakable pity stirred her.  So young, so sad, thus alone in the world; who ever heard of such a fate?

“But there were people who came with you in the ship?” said John.  “There is some one who knows who you are, I suppose.”

“No, no von dat knows,” replied the newcomer.

“Haf done vid too much questions,” interrupted Farmer Weitbreck.  “I haf him asked all.  He stays till harvest be done.  He can vork.  It is to be easy see he can vork.”

John did not like the appearance of things.  “Too much mystery here,” he thought.  “However, it is not long he will be here, and he will be in the fields all the time; there cannot be much danger.  But who ever heard of a man whom no human being knew?”