"KYLLIKKI (waiting to be a mother)."
"His BIRTHPLACE, 10th Sept., 11 a.m.
"FATHER!—Yes, that is what you are now. I can see your eyes light up. And a son, of course. At six o'clock this morning. All well, both going on finely; he is simply a picture of health, big and strong and full of life. And such a voice! If you want a man to shout out orders to the workmen…. I haven't looked at him properly yet. He is lying here just beside me; I can see his hand sticking out between the clothes. A fine little hand, not just fat and soft and flabby, but big and strong—his father's hand. The very hand to drain a marsh, you wait and see. And his soul—ah, you should see his eyes! His father's eyes. Now they won't let me write any more. I will tell you more next time. I have sent him a kiss with my eyes, from you—and there is a kiss for you in my thoughts.
"KYLLIKKI (the happy mother)."
THE HOMECOMING
The autumn sun was setting; it smiled upon the meadows, gleamed in the window-panes, and threw a kindly glow upon the distant forest. The air was cool.
Olof was in a strange mood to-day. He walked with light, springy step, and could not keep still for a moment; he was uneasy, and yet glad. He had sent a man to the station with a horse, and the little servant-maid had been dispatched on an errand to a distant village—he wished to be alone.
He stepped hastily into the bedroom, gave a searching glance round, looked at the thermometer on the wall, and laughed.
"Aha—beginning to look all right now."
Then he went back to the sitting-room. The coffee-pot was simmering its quiet, cheerful song on the fire; close by lay a goodly heap of white pine logs.