Jerusalem | Page 8

seem to fix upon any special one. Then, finally, from the top of a
hillock he caught sight of the big Ingmar Farm down in the valley.
"Great Caesar!" he exclaimed, and stopped short. "That farmhouse
hasn't been painted in a hundred years. Why, it's black with age, and the
barns have never seen a drop of point. Here there's work enough to
keep me busy till fall."
A little farther on he came upon a man plowing. "Why, there's a farmer
who belongs here and knows all about this neighbourhood," thought the
painter. "He can tell me all I need know about that homestead yonder."
Whereupon he crossed the path into the field, stepped up to Ingmar,
and asked him if he thought the folks living over there wanted any
painting done.
Ingmar Ingmarsson was startled, and stood staring at the man as though
he were a ghost.

"Lord, as I live, it's a painter!" he remarked to himself. "And to think of
his coming just now!" He was so dumbfounded that he could not
answer the man. He distinctly recalled that every time any one had said
to his father: "You ought to have that big, ugly house of yours painted,
Father Ingmar," the old man had always replied that he would have it
done the year Ingmar married.
The painter put the question a second time, and a third, but Ingmar
stood there, dazed, as if he had not understood him.
"Are they ready at last with their answer?" he wondered. "Is this a
message from father to say that he wishes me to marry this year?"
He was so overwhelmed by the thought that he hired the man on the
spot. Then he went on with his plowing, deeply moved and almost
happy.
"You'll see it won't be so very hard to do this now that you know for
certain it is father's wish," he said.

II
A fortnight later Ingmar Ingmarsson stood polishing some harness. He
seemed to be in a bad humour, and found the work rather irksome.
"Were I in our Lord's place," he thought, then put in another rub or two
and beg again: "Were I in our Lord's place, I'd see to it that a thing was
done the instant your mind was made up. I shouldn't allow folks such a
long time to think it over, and ponder all the obstacles. I shouldn't give
them time to polish harness and paint wagons; I'd take them straight
from the plow."
He caught the sound of wagon wheels from the road, and looked out.
He knew at once whose rig it was. "The senator from Bergskog is
coming!" he shouted into the kitchen, where his mother was at work.
Instantly fresh wood was laid on the fire and the coffee mill was set
going.
The senator drove into the yard, where he pulled up without alighting.
"No, I'm not going into the house," he said, "I only want a word or two
with you, Ingmar. I'm rather pressed for time as I am due at the parish
meeting."
"Mother is just making some fresh coffee," said Ingmar.
"Thank you, but I must not be late."
"It's a good while now since you were here, Senator," said Ingmar

pressingly.
Then Ingmar's mother appeared in the doorway, and protested:
"Surely you're not thinking of going without first coming in for a drop
of coffee?"
Ingmar unbuttoned the carriage apron, and the senator began to move.
"Seeing it's Mother Martha herself that commands me I suppose I shall
have to obey," he said.
The senator was a tall man of striking appearance, with a certain ease
of manner. He was of a totally different stamp from Ingmar or his
mother, who were very plain looking, with sleepy faces and clumsy
bodies. But all the same, the senator had a profound respect for the old
family of Ingmars, and would gladly have sacrificed his own active
exterior to be like Ingmar, and to become one of the Ingmassons. He
had always taken Ingmar's part against his own daughter, so felt rather
light of heart at being so well received.
In a while, when Mother Martha had brought the coffee, he began to
state his errand.
"I thought," he said, and cleared his throat. "I thought you had best be
told what we intend to do with Brita." The cup which Mother Martha
held in her hand shook a little, and the teaspoon rattled in the saucer.
Then there was a painful silence. "We have been thinking that the best
thing we could do would be to send her to America." He made another
pause, only to be met by the same ominous silence. He sighed at the
thought of these unresponsive people. "Her ticket has already been