BRITA goes out.
The SHERIFF pulls up a chair and sits down beside KERSTI.
The girls sneak out of the room one by one. LIT-MATS stays behind, clinging to the skirt of KERSTI.
It is plain that the intentions of the SHERIFF are kindly, and so are his words, but the more discreet he tries to be, the more awkward he becomes, and so all his words assume an ambiguous meaning.
SHERIFF. [Taking one of KERSTI'S hands and looking her straight in the eyes] What sort of a bride is this, looking so sad when she is getting her heart's desire? What is the matter?
KERSTI. With what?
SHERIFF. Is that the way to answer an old friend who will be a kinsman by this hour to-morrow? There is more than one lass who envies you, and who would like to get to the altar ahead of you to-morrow.
KERSTI. Maybe there is.
SHERIFF. And there is the new life ahead of you, in mill and kitchen. No more running about in the woods, where "birches nod in the blowing breeze." No more dancing in the barns on Saturday nights. You'll be busy 'tending your pots, and watching the cradle, and having the meals on the table when Mats comes home, and—keeping an even temper when the dark days arrive—for after sunshine there is sure to be a little rain. Does it scare you to find life so serious, dear? It isn't as bad as it looks. It merely helps to make life kind of solemn.
KERSTI. Oh!
SHERIFF. What are you oh-ing about, girl?—There seems to be something in the air that has no place in the thoughts of a young girl—something amiss. Now, my dear, let me see if I can't straighten it out. [Jestingly] The guardian of the law knows how to get the truth out of all sorts of people. What's on your mind, dear? Has Mats been nasty to you?
KERSTI. Oh, mercy!
SHERIFF. Has the family been playing the high-and-mighty? What have you to do with the family anyhow?