“Now tell me, Kaisa, what makes you think that Brita doesn’t care for Ingmar.”

“From the very start folks have been saying that her parents made her take him,” returned the old woman, evasively.

“Speak right out, Kaisa, for when I question you, you don’t have to beat about the bush.  I guess I’m able to bear anything you may have to tell me.”

“I must say that every time I was at Bergskog Brit always looked as if she’d been crying.  Once, when she and I were alone in the kitchen, I said to her:  ’It’s a fine husband you’ll be getting, Brita.’  She looked at me as if she thought I was making fun of her.  Then she came at me with this:  ’You may well say it, Kaisa.  Fine, indeed!’ She said it in such a way that I seemed to see Ingmar Ingmarsson standing there before my face and eyes, and he’s no beauty!  As I’ve always had a great respect for all the Ingmarssons, that thought had never before entered my mind.  I couldn’t help smiling a little.  Then Brita gave me a look and said once more:  ‘Fine, indeed’’ With that she turned on her heel and ran into her room, crying as if her heart would break.  As I was leaving I said to myself:  ’It will all come out right; everything always comes out right for the Ingmarssons.’  I didn’t wonder at her parents doing what they did.  If Ingmar Ingmarsson had proposed to a daughter of mine, I shouldn’t have given myself a moment’s peace till she said yes.”

Ingmar from his bedroom could hear every word that was spoken.

“Mother is doing this on purpose,” he thought.  “She’s been wondering about that trip to town to-morrow.  Mother fancies I’m going after Brita, to fetch her home.  She doesn’t suspect that I’m too big a coward to do it.”

“The next time I saw Brita,” the old woman went on, “was after she had come here to you.  I couldn’t ask her just then how she liked it here, seeing the house was full of visitors; but when I had gone a ways into the grove she came running after me.

“‘Kaisa!’ she called, ‘have you been up at Bergskog lately?’

“‘I was there day before yesterday,’ I replied.

“’Gracious me! were you there day before yesterday?  And I feel as if I hadn’t been at home in years!’ It wasn’t easy to know just what to say to her, for she looked as if she couldn’t bear the least little thing and would be ready to cry at whatever I might say.  ‘You can surely go home for a visit?’ I said.  ’No; I don’t think I shall ever go home again.’  ‘Oh, do go,’ I urged.  ’It’s beautiful up there now; the woods are full of berries; the bushes are thick with red whortleberries.’  ‘Dear me!’ she said, her eyes growing big with surprise, ‘are there whortleberries already?’ ’Yes, indeed.  Surely you can get off a day, just to go home and eat your fill of berries?’ ‘No, I hardly think I want to,’ she said.  ’My going home would make it all the harder to come back to this place.’  ’I’ve always heard that the Ingmars are the best kind of folks to be with,’