The Troll Garden and Selected Stories

'Was he cross?' her niece asked indifferently.

'Olaf? Oh, no! He was in fine spirits. He's never cross if you know how to take him. I never knew a man to make so little fuss about bills. I gave him a list of things to get a yard long, and he didn't say a word; just folded it up and put it in his pocket.'

'I can well believe he didn't say a word,' Clara remarked with a shrug. 'Some day he'll forget how to talk.'

'Oh, but they say he's a grand speaker in the Legislature. He knows when to keep quiet.

That's why he's got such influence in politics. The people have confidence in him.'

Johanna beat up a pillow and held it under her fat chin while she slipped on the case. Her niece laughed.

'Maybe we could make people believe we were wise, Aunty, if we held our tongues.

Why did you tell Mrs. Ericson that Norman threw me again last Saturday and turned my foot? She's been talking to Olaf.'

Johanna fell into great confusion. 'Oh, but, my precious, the old lady asked for you, and she's always so angry if I can't give an excuse. Anyhow, she needn't talk; she's always tearing up something with that motor of hers.'

When her aunt clattered down to the kitchen, Clara went to dust the parlour. Since there was not much there to dust, this did not take very long. Olaf had built the house new for her before their marriage, but her interest in furnishing it had been short- lived. It went, indeed, little beyond a bathtub and her piano. They had disagreed about almost even, other article of furniture, and Clara had said she would rather have her house empty than full of things she didn't want. The house was set in a hillside, and the west windows of the parlour looked out above the kitchen yard thirty feet below. The east windows opened directly into the front yard. At one of the latter, Clara, while she was dusting, heard a low whistle. She did not turn at once, but listened intently as she drew her cloth slowly along the round of a chair. Yes, there it was:

I dreamt that I dwelt in ma-a-arble halls.

She turned and saw Nils Ericson laughing in the sunlight, his hat in his hand, just outside the window. As she crossed the room he leaned against the wire screen. 'Aren't you at all surprised to see me, Clara Vavrika?'

'No; I was expecting to see you. Mother Ericson telephoned Olaf last night that you were here.'

Nils squinted and gave a long whistle. 'Telephoned? That must have been while Eric and I were out walking. Isn't she enterprising? Lift this screen, won't you?'

Clara lifted the screen, and Nils swung his leg across the window-sill. As he stepped into the room she said: 'You didn't think you were going to get ahead of your mother, did you?'

He threw his hat on the piano. 'Oh, I do sometimes. You see, I'm ahead of her now. I'm supposed to be in Anders' wheat-field. But, as we were leaving, Mother ran her car into a soft place beside the road and sank up to the hubs. While they were going for the horses to pull her out, I cut away behind the stacks and escaped.' Nils chuckled. Clara's dull eyes lit up as she looked at him admiringly.

'You've got them guessing already. 1 don't know what your mother said to Olaf over the telephone, but be came back looking as if he'd seen a ghost, and he didn't go to bed until a dreadful hour--ten o'clock, I should think. He sat out on the porch in the dark like a graven image. It had been one of his talkative days, too.' They both laughed, easily and lightly, like people who have laughed a great deal together; but they remained standing.

'Anders and Otto and Peter looked as if they had seen ghosts, too, over in the threshing field. What's the matter with them all?'

Clara gave him a quick, searching look. 'Well, for one thing, they've always been afraid you have the other will.'

Nils looked interested. 'The other will?'

'Yes. A later one. They knew your father made another, but they never knew what he did with it. They almost tore the old house to pieces looking for it. They always suspected that he carried on a clandestine correspondence with you, for the one thing he would do was to get his own mail himself. So they thought he might have sent the new will to you for safekeeping. The old one, leaving everything to your mother, was made long before you went away, and it's understood among them that it cuts you out--that she will leave all the property to the others. Your father made the second will to prevent that. I've been hoping you had it. It would be such fun to spring it on them.' Clara laughed mirthfully, a thing she did not often do now.

Nils shook his head reprovingly. 'Come, now, you're malicious.'

'No, I'm not. But I'd like something to happen to stir them all up, just for once. There never was such a family for having nothing ever happen to them but dinner and threshing.

I'd almost be willing to die, just to have a funeral. You wouldn't stand it for three weeks.'

Nils bent over the piano and began pecking at the keys with the finger of one hand. 'I wouldn't? My dear young lady, how do you know what I can stand? You wouldn't wait to find out.'

Clara flushed darkly and frowned. 'I didn't believe you would ever come back--' she said defiantly.

'Eric believed I would, and he was only a baby when I went away. However, all's well that ends well, and I haven't come back to be a skeleton at the feast. We mustn't quarrel.

Mother mill be here with a search warrant pretty soon.' He swung round and faced her, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets. 'Come, you ought to be glad to see me, if you want something to happen. I'm something, even without a will. We can have a little fun, can't we? I think we can!'

She echoed him, 'I think we can!' They both laughed and their eyes sparkled. Clara Vavrika looked ten years younger than when she had put the velvet ribbon about her throat that morning.

'You know, I'm so tickled to see mother,' Nils went on. 'I didn't know I was so proud of her. A regular pile driver. How about little pigtails, down at the house? Is Olaf doing the square thing by those children?'

Clara frowned pensively. 'Olaf has to do something that looks like the square thing, now that he's a public man!' She glanced drolly at Nils. 'But he makes a good commission out of it. On Sundays they all get together here and figure. He lets Peter and Anders put in big bills for the keep of the two boys, and he pays them out of the estate. They are always having what they call accountings. Olaf gets something out of it, too. I don't know just how they do it, but it's entirely a family matter, as they say. And when the Ericsons say that--' Clara lifted her