"Just like Vikinger," said Yaspard, who quite enjoyed the story. "Well?"
"They never would speak to each other, even if they met at the church door, or at a neighbour's funeral. It was very sinful; and they would not let their children become acquainted. My father made me drop acquaintance with my school friend when she married Mr. Garson, for no reason but because she married the son of his enemy. It has been the same since your uncle came to be Laird. If your father had lived it would have been different, for he bore ill-feeling to no one; but he was so much away with his ship, he never got a chance to put things right; which I know he could have done, for the Laird of Lunda—who died two years ago—was one of the best of men. A land-grabber! My friend's husband. He was as good a man as Shetland ere saw. He tried again and again to be friends with Brüs, but it was no use, and it will be of no use his boy trying. I know."
"Something shall be of use," muttered Yaspard; then aloud he asked, "Will uncle answer this letter?"
"My dear, he's done it. There is his answer on the table. He read it to me, and I felt as if I were listening to a clap of thunder."
"What did he say?"
"He said that Havnholme was his, and that he meant to do with his own as he pleased. And he said, 'If you set foot in Boden you will receive the thrashing which such a coxcomb deserves.' He told me to send the Harrison boys across the sound in your little boat early to-morrow, and they were to leave the letter at the post-office. They were not to go to the Ha' for their lives. Brüs never told me to do a harder thing than to send such a letter to the son of my friend—to the poor lad who is trying to live like his true-hearted father, and to be at peace with all men! It is a cruel thing." And here Miss Osla began to weep again.
Yaspard went to the table and picked up the letter, read the address, and put it in his pocket. "Leave this affair to me, auntie," he said; "I'll see that Fred Garson gets the letter, and gets it right properly."
Poor Miss Adiesen was too much troubled to notice anything peculiar in Yaspard's words or expression, but Signy did, and as he left the room she followed and asked in a whisper—
"Is it going to fit into your idea, brodhor?"
"Fits like the skin to a sealkie," said he.