But she did not finish, for Erik whipped the banker's letter out of his pocket, flashed it under her nose, and cried, "Here it is, Fru Hansson! A letter from Herr Banker! And it promises money for Hanssonborg."
Fru Hansson read the letter. Then she looked down at the delighted face of the boy who stood before her, as important as a Swedish Paul Revere. His blond hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement. He was waiting for the glory that was to be his. But it did not come.
Fru Hansson said, "This is very kind of Herr Banker, and we can use the loan. It was also thoughtful of you, Erik, to bring the letter. Thank you. Now you must go. I am very busy."
He was dismissed. Nothing had happened as he had expected it to happen. Only "thank you" and a cold dismissal! A shadow fell over the golden page of Erik's fairy tale.
He took a step forward. "But, Fru Hansson—" he began.
"I said I was busy, Erik," she repeated. "There is much to be done before the wedding feast tomorrow."
The wedding feast! Erik's cheeks paled.
"Oh, but Fru Hansson," he cried, "there will be no wedding now."
Fru Hansson had a straight back, and her head was like a proud swan riding upon it.