Mother Stina was as astounded as if some one had struck her in the face; and went back to her seat.  She knew, of course, that no one nowadays reads these old Bibles, with their obsolete and antiquated language, but just the same it seemed strange that Karin would want to sell it.

It was perhaps the very Bible the old housewife was reading when they came and told her that her husband, the great-grandfather of young Ingmar, had been killed by a bear.  Everything that Mother Stina saw had something to tell her.  The old silver buckles lying on the table had been taken from the trolls in Mount Klack by an Ingmar Ingmarsson.  In the rickety chaise over yonder the Ingmar Ingmarsson who had lived during her childhood had driven to church.  She remembered that every time he had passed by her and her mother on their way to church, the mother had nudged her and said:  “Now you must curtsy, Stina, fox here comes Ingmar Ingmarsson.”

She used to wonder why it was that her mother always wanted her to curtsy to Ingmar Ingmarsson; she had never been so particular when it came to the judge or the bailiff.

Afterward she was told that when her mother was a little girl and went to church with her mother, the latter had always nudged her and said:  ’Now you must curtsy, Stina, for here comes Ingmar Ingmarsson.”

“God knows,” sighed Mother Stina, “it’s not only because I had expected that Gertrude would some day have been mistress here that I grieve, but it seems to me as if the whole parish were done for.”

Just then the pastor came along, looking solemn and depressed.  He did not stop an instant, but went straight to the house.  Mother Stina surmised that he had come to plead Ingmar’s cause with Karin and Halvor.

Shortly after, the manager of the sawmills at Bergsana arrived, and also judge Persson.  The manager, who was there in the interest of the corporation, straightway went inside, but Sven Persson walked about in the yard for a while and looked at the things.  Presently he stopped in front of a little old man with a big beard, who was sitting on the same pile of boards as Mother Stina.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know, Strong Ingmar, whether Ingmar Ingmarsson has decided to buy the timber I offered him?”

“He says no,” the old man answered, “but I shouldn’t be surprised if he were to change his mind soon.”  At the same time he winked and jerked his thumb in the direction of Mother Stina, thus cautioning Sven Persson not to let her hear what they were talking about.

“I should think he’d be satisfied to accept my terms,” said the Judge.  “I don’t make these offers everyday; but this I’m doing for Big Ingmar’s sake.”

“You’re right about its being a good offer,” the old man agreed, “but he says that he has already made a deal else where.”

“I wonder if he has really considered what it is that he’s losing?” said Sven Persson, and walked on.