“This must be the way folks feel who live in Paradise,” said a youth, looking very solemn.
After the singing there were fireworks, and when the rockets went up into the indigo night-sky and broke into showers of red, blue, and yellow stars, Jan was so carried away that for the moment he forgot about Glory Goldie. When he came back to himself she was gone.
“It can’t be helped now,” thought Jan. “I only hope all will go well with her, as usual, and that Superintendent Söderlind or any of the other watchers won’t lay hands on her.”
It would have been futile for Jan to try to find her out in the big, dark orchard: he knew that the sensible thing for him to do was to remain where he was, and wait for her. And he did not have to wait very long! There was one more song; the last strains had hardly died away when he saw Superintendent Söderlind come up, with Glory Goldie in his arms.
Lieutenant Liljecrona was standing with a little group of gentlemen at the top of the steps, listening to the singing, when Superintendent Söderlind stopped in front of him and set the little girl down on the ground.
Glory Goldie did not scream or try to run away. She had picked her apron full of apples and thought of nothing save to hold it up securely, so that none of the apples would roll out.
“This youngster has been up in an apple tree,” said Superintendent Söderlind, “and your orders were that if I caught any apple thieves I was to bring them to you.”
Lieutenant Liljecrona glanced down at the little girl, and the fine wrinkles round his eyes began to twitch. It was impossible to tell whether he was going to laugh or cry in a second. He had intended to administer a sharp reprimand to the one who had stolen his apples. But now when he saw the little girl tighten her hands round her apron, he felt sorry for her. Only he was puzzled to know how he should manage this thing so that she could keep her apples; for if he were to let her off without further ado, it might result in his having his whole orchard stripped.
“So you’ve been up in the apple trees, have you?” said the lieutenant. “You have gone to school and read about Adam and Eve, so you ought to know how dangerous it is to steal apples.”
At that moment Jan came forward and placed himself beside his daughter; he felt quite put out with her for having spoiled his pleasure, but of course he had to stand by her.
“Don’t do anything to the little girl, Lieutenant!” he said. “For it was I who gave her leave to climb the tree for the apples.”
Glory Goldie sent her father a withering glance, and broke her silence. “That isn’t true,” she declared. “I wanted the apples. Father has been standing here the whole evening holding onto my hand so I shouldn’t go pick any.”
Now the lieutenant was tickled. “Good for you, my girl!” said he. “You did right in not letting your father shoulder the blame. I suppose you know that when Our Lord was so angry at Adam and Eve it wasn’t because they had stolen an apple, but because they were cowards and tried to shift the blame, the one onto the other. You may go now, and you can keep your apples because you were not afraid to tell the truth.”
With that he turned to one of his sons, and said:
“Give Jan a glass of punch. We must drink to him because his girl spoke up for herself better than old Mother Eve. It would have been well for us all if Glory Goldie had been in the Garden of Eden instead of Eve.”
Book II
Lars Gunnarson
One cold winter day Eric of Falla and Jan were up in the forest cutting down trees. They had just sawed through the trunk of a big spruce, and stepped aside so as not to be caught under its branches when it came crashing to the ground.
“Look out, Boss!” warned Jan. “It’s coming your way.”
There was plenty of time for Eric to have escaped while the spruce still swayed; but he had felled so many trees in his lifetime that he thought he ought to know more about this than Jan did, and stood still. The next moment he lay upon the ground with the tree on top of him. He had not uttered a sound when the tree caught him and now he was completely hidden by the thick spruce branches.
Jan stood looking round not knowing what had become of his employer. Presently he heard the old familiar voice he had always obeyed; but it sounded so feeble he could hardly make out what it was saying.
“Go get a team and some men to take me home,” said the voice.
“Shan’t I help you from under first?” asked Jan.
“Do as I tell you!” said Eric of Falla.
Jan, knowing his employer to be a man who always demanded prompt obedience, said nothing further but hurried back to Falla as fast as he could. The farm was some distance away, so that it took time to get there.
On arriving, the first person Jan came upon was Lars Gunnarson, the husband of Eric’s eldest daughter and prospective master of Falla, which he was destined to take over upon the decease of the present owner.
When Lars Gunnarson had received his instructions he ordered Jan to go straight to the house and tell the mistress of what had occurred; then he was to call the hired boy. Meantime Lars himself would run down to the barn and harness a horse.
“Perhaps I needn’t be so very
