As soon as it became known that the farm was for sale, Ingmar put in a bid for it.  But Ingmar had only about six thousand kroner, and Halvor had already been offered twenty-five thousand by the management of the big Bergsana sawmills and ironworks.  Ingmar succeeded in borrowing enough money to enable him to offer an equally large sum.  The Company then raised its bid to thirty thousand, which was more than Ingmar dared offer; for he could not think of assuming so heavy a debt.  The worst of it was, that not only would the homestead by this means pass out of the hands of the Ingmars for all time—­for the Company was never known to part with anything once it became its property—­but moreover it was not likely that it would allow Ingmar to run the sawmill at Langfors Falls, in which case he would be deprived of his living.  Then he would have to give up all thought of marrying Gertrude in the fall, as had been planned.  It might even be necessary for him to go elsewhere, to seek employment.

When Mother Stina thought of this, she did not feel very pleasantly disposed toward Karin and Halvor.  “I hope to goodness that Karin won’t come up and speak to me!” she muttered to herself.  “For if she does, I’ll just have to let her know what I think of her treatment of Ingmar.  After all, it’s her fault that the farm does not already belong to him.  I’ve been told that they’ll need a lot of money for the journey.  Just the same it seems mighty strange that Karin can have the heart to sell the old place to a corporation that would cut down all the timber and let the fields go to waste.”

There was some one outside the corporation who wished to buy the place; it was the rich district judge, Berger Sven Persson.  Mother Stina felt that such an arrangement would be better for Ingmar, as Sven Persson was a generous man, who would surely let him keep the sawmill.  “Sven Persson will not forget that he was once a poor goose boy on this farm,” she reflected; “and that it was Big Ingmar who first took him in hand and gave him a start in life.”

Mother Stina did not go into the house, but remained in the yard, as did most of the people who had come to attend the sale.  She sat down on a pile of boards, and began to glance about her very carefully, as one is wont to do when taking a last look at some beloved spot.

Surrounding the farmyard on three sides were ranges of outbuildings, and in the centre was a little storehouse propped on four posts.  Nothing looked particularly old, with the exception of the porch with the carved moulding at the entrance to the dwelling-house, and another one, still older, with stout twisted pillars, at the entrance of the washhouse.

Mother Stina thought of all the old Ingmarssons whose feet had trod the yard.  She seemed to see them coming home from their work in the evening, and gathering around the hearth, tall and somewhat bent, always afraid of intruding themselves, or of accepting more than they felt was their due.