“Yes, yes, a real good turn,” echoed the innkeeper’s son, with a chuckle.

Before they were done laughing, Karin had vanished like a shadow through the kitchen door; but she could hear from the kitchen all that was said inside.  She was both sorry and distressed over Halvor’s untimely visit.  It would probably result in her never being able to marry Halvor.  It was plain that the gossips were already spreading evil reports.  “I can’t bear the thought of losing him,” she sighed.

For a time no sound came from the sitting-room, but presently she heard a noise as if a chair were being pushed back.  Some one had evidently risen.

“Are you going already, Halvor?” young Ingmar was heard to say.

“Yes,” Halvor replied.  “I can’t stop any longer.  Please say good-bye to Karin for me.”

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen and say it for yourself?”

“No,” Halvor was heard to answer, “we two have nothing more to say to each other.”

Karin’s heart began to pump hard, and thoughts came rushing into her head, as if on wings.  Now Halvor was angry at her—­and no wonder!  She had hardly dared even to shake hands with him, and when the others had scoffed at him, she never opened her mouth in his defence, but quietly sneaked away.  Now he must think she did not care for him, and was therefore going, never to return.  She could not understand why she should have treated him so shabbily—­she who was so fond of him.  Then, all at once her father’s old saying came to her:  “The Ingmarssons need have no fear of men; they have only to walk in the ways of God.”

Karin hastily opened the door, and stood facing Halvor before he could manage to leave the room.

“Are you leaving so soon, Halvor?” she asked.  “I thought you were going to stay to supper.”

Halvor stood staring at Karin.  She seemed to be completely changed; her cheeks were aglow, and there was something tender and appealing about her which he had never seen before.

“I’m going, and I’m not coming back,” said Halvor.  He had not caught her meaning, apparently.

“Do stay and finish your coffee,” she urged.  Then she took him by the hand and led him back to the table.  She turned both white and red, and several times she all but lost her courage.  Just the same she braved it out, although there was nothing she feared so much as scorn and contempt.  “Now he will at least see that I’m willing to stand by him,” she thought.  Turning toward her guests, she said:  “Berger Sven Persson and all of you!  Halvor and I have not spoken of this matter—­as I have so recently become a widow—­but now it seems best that you should all know that I would rather marry Halvor than any one else in the world.”  She paused to get control of her voice, then concluded:  “Folks may say what they like about this, but Halvor and I have done nothing wrong.”

When Karin had finished speaking, she drew nearer to Halvor, as if seeking protection against all the cruel slander that would come now.