At home at Selambshof Laura sank into ever deeper and deeper reflections. Herman no longer came up the avenue. And Stellan was also away most of the time. Our young lady felt lonely and very bored. Whenever she did get hold of Stellan he only shrugged his shoulders and looked contemptuous. And he always managed to get away without her discovering where he went.
But one fine day when she was sitting on the landing stage, there came a smart, white sailing boat gliding past. At the foresail-sheet sat Herman. But astern Stellan was lounging like a prince, his head against the tiller and his feet up against the gunwale. When he caught sight of Laura on the landing stage he put about so that Herman should not notice her. And Laura was so dumbfounded and furious that she did not call out to them. She roamed about on the shore and felt deserted, cheated of her fun. To crown all she saw Stellan try on an absolutely new, black suit with long trousers which had been sent from town.
“What are you getting a new suit for?”
“I’m giving a dinner,” said Stellan carelessly.
“Where? Here?”
“No! At Herman’s. My birthday’s coming.”
“I suppose I am to come too?”
“No, it’s a men’s dinner, you see, ta-ta!” With that he pushed Laura out of the room. The new suit was the logical result of Stellan’s diplomacy. Hang it all, you can’t very well appear in anything when you have such smart guests.
But Laura threw herself down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She did not cry—but she wanted to tear her face. “How stupid I have been,” she thought, “goodness, how stupid I have been!”
Next morning she got up early. It was not yet nine o’clock when she came dancing into her guardian’s room at Ekbacken as he sat shaving with deliberate and methodical dignity. She shone like a little sunbeam, and had a bunch of the brightest wild flowers in her hand. Then she ran about for a vase and placed it between the washbasin and the soap dish, so that nobody could mistake the object of her attention.
“How awfully good of you, uncle, to give a dinner for Stellan.”
“And of course, you would love to come,” muttered her guardian through the lather.
“Rather, as it is Stellan’s birthday. But there are to be only boys?”
“Yes, but we ought to have a hostess, even though it is a men’s dinner.”
Laura suddenly grew serious, terribly serious.
“Oh, but my old red frock is worn out, and besides the sleeves are too short.”
“But supposing you came to town with me one day and bought a new frock. …”
Laura jumped up in his lap and kissed him in the middle of the lather:
“Oh, thank you, dear darling. But don’t tell Stellan and Herman!”
Thus it came about that when at last that birthday dinner came off and the boys had already been down to look at the sawmill and had been climbing in the shrouds of the old brigs and had been chatting with the jolly old tars—who should be standing on the front steps to receive them like an amiable hostess but Laura, dressed in a brand new silk frock, almost down to her ankles and full of bows and frills.
For a moment Stellan frowned, but his face soon lit up with involuntary approval. At least one didn’t need to feel ashamed of the girl.
But Herman grew quite red in the face and was unable to get out a sound, but stole in without daring to look at her. She was altogether too lovely.
It was quite a smart dinner. Old Hermansson offered wine and even made a little speech for the young people. Speechmaking was his weakness.
While the others were going out into the garden for coffee, Laura seized the opportunity and gave Herman a kiss behind a door—a swift, fugitive, little kiss on the cheek. But for Herman it was as if the doors of Paradise had been suddenly flung open. He sat there mute amidst the chatter and laughter, and revelled in the wonderful thought that the girl in the silk frock, the beautiful Laura, had kissed him.
And Laura also paused in drinking her coffee and munching her sweets and remembered how his cheek had burnt her lips. It really was rather pleasant to kiss. Neither did it cost anything—possibly just the contrary. …
They carefully avoided speaking to each other and they could not for the world have looked each other in the eyes.
After this Stellan and Laura detached themselves more and more from their brothers and sisters and came more and more frequently to Herman’s house. They both felt that the sombre and shabby Selambshof was not their chosen field. No! Ekbacken was quite different—here you escaped the sight of your father sitting about in his dull fashion. From here intercourse with Stonehill and Kolsnäs was easiest. Here, with their guardian, they had the exciting and pleasurable feeling of being at the heart of things. They felt already, those two fair heads, that it was Ekbacken that was to be their stepping stone to success in the world.
VII
Brundin’s Downfall
It had been a long autumn. With grey creeping mists and ankle-deep slush, November had drawn a close ring round Selambshof.
Peter was alone in the day time. As he had failed again in his examination, he had had to leave school and it was not yet decided what he was going to do. But time passed quickly all the same, for recently he had lots of things to attend to.
For example, the great pig-slaughter. Since six o’clock this morning he had been strolling about in the dark yard and as soon as dawn came he was down by the pigsty behind the cowshed.
The cowherd came trailing one poor pig after another. Then they were raised on to the slaughter block and instantly Anders, the stable man, stuck
