***

Tims Halvor did not go near the schoolhouse again for a week or more; it was as if he were afraid of again meeting Karin there.  But one morning when it rained in torrents, and there was no likelihood of any customers coming, he decided to run over and have a chat with Mother Stina.  He was hungry for a heart-to-heart talk with some kindly and sympathetic person.  He had been seized by a terrible fit of the blues.  “I’m no good, and no one has any respect for me,” he murmured, tormenting himself, as he had been in the habit of doing ever since Karin had thrown him over.

He closed his shop, buttoned his storm coat, and went on his way to the school, through wind and rain and slush.  Halvor was happy to be back once more in the friendly atmosphere of the schoolhouse, and was still there when the recess bell rang, and Storm and the two children came in for their coffee.  All three went over to greet him.  He arose to shake hands with the schoolmaster, but when little Ingmar put out his hand, Halvor was talking so earnestly to Mother Stina that he seemed not to have noticed the boy.  Ingmar remained standing a moment, then he went up to the table and sat down.  He sighed several times, just as Karin had done the day she was there.

“Halvor has come to show us his new watch,” said Mother Stina.

Whereupon Halvor took from his pocket a new silver watch, which he showed to them.  It was a pretty little timepiece, with a flower design engraved on the case.  The schoolmaster opened it, went into the schoolroom for a magnifying glass, adjusted it to his eye, and began examining the works.  He seemed quite carried away as he studied the delicate adjustment of the tiny wheels, and said he had never seen finer workmanship.  Finally he gave the watch back to Halvor, who put it in his pocket, looking neither pleased nor proud, as folks generally do when you praise their purchases.

Ingmar was silent during the meal, but when he had finished his coffee, he asked Storm whether he really knew anything about watches.

“Why, of course,” returned the schoolmaster.  “Don’t you know that I understand a little of everything?”

Ingmar then brought out a watch which he carried in his vest pocket.  It was a big, round, silver turnip that looked ugly and clumsy as compared with Halvor’s watch.  The chain to which it was attached was also a clumsy contrivance.  The case was quite plain and dented.  It was not much of a watch:  it had no crystal, and the enamel on its face was cracked.

“It has stopped,” said Storm, putting the watch to his ear.

“Yes, I kn-n-ow,” stammered the boy.  “I was just wondering if you didn’t think it could be mended.”

Storm opened it and found that all the wheels were loose.  “You must have been hammering nails with this watch,” he said.  “I can’t do anything with it.”

“Don’t you think that Eric, the clockmaker, could fix it?”