Ingmar, meanwhile, had not opened the sluice gate, for with the saws going he could not have heard a word.  The old man eyed him questioningly.  Ingmar smiled a little.  “You always manage somehow to have your own way,” he said.

“It was that silly goose, Gunhild, Councillor Clementsson’s daughter, who—­”

“She’s no silly goose!” Ingmar broke in.

“Oh, call it anything you like, but she happened to be at the Ingmar Farm when this new sect was founded.  As soon as she got home, she informed her parents that she had accepted the only true faith, and that she would there fore have to leave them and make her home at the Ingmar Farm.  Her parents asked her, of course, why she wanted to leave home.  So she’d be able to lead a righteous life, she up and told them.  But they seemed to think that could be done just as effectively at home with them.  Oh, no, that wouldn’t be possible, she declared, unless one could live with those who were of the same faith.  Her father then asked her if all of them were going to live on the Ingmar Farm.  No, only herself; the others had true Christians in their own homes.  Now Clementsson is a pretty good sort, as you know, and both he and his wife tried to reason with Gunhild in all kindness, but she stood firm.  At last her father became so exasperated that he just took her and locked her up in her room, telling her she’d have to stay there till this crazy fit had passed.”

“I thought you were going to tell me about Gertrude,” Ingmar reminded him.

“I’ll get round to her by and by, if you’ll only have patience.  I may as well tell you at once that early the next morning, while Gertrude and Mother Stina were sitting in the kitchen spinning, Mrs. Clementsson called to see them.  When they saw her they became alarmed.  She, who was usually so happy and light of heart, now looked as if she’d been crying her eyes out.  ’What’s the matter?  What has happened?  And why do you look so forlorn?’ they asked.  Then Mother Clementsson answered that when one has lost one’s dearest treasure, one can’t very well look cheerful.  I’d like to give them a good beating!” said the old man.

“Who?” asked Ingmar.

“Why, Hellgum and Anna Lisa.  They marched themselves down to Clementsson’s in the night and kidnapped Gunhild.”

A cry of amazement escaped Ingmar.

“I’m beginning to think my Anna Lisa is married to a brigand!” said the old man.  “In the middle of the night they came and tapped on Gunhild’s window, and asked her why she wasn’t at the Ingmar Farm.  She told them about her parents having locked her in. “’Twas Satan who made ’em do it,’ said Hellgum.  All this her father and mother overheard.”

“Did they really?”

“Yes, they slept in the next room, and the door between was partly open; so they heard all that Hellgum said to entice their daughter.”

“But they could have sent him away.”

“They felt that Gunhild should decide for herself.  How could they think she would want to leave them, after all they had done for her?  They lay there expecting her to say that she would never desert her old parents.”