Maria was standing looking from one to the other of them with a meaningless smile, but her forehead was flushed.
“There’s gentle blood in that boy,” said Kalle admiringly. “He holds his head differently from the others. And he’s good—so tremendously good.” Maria came slowly up to him, leaned her arm upon his shoulder, and looked at the picture with him. “He is good, isn’t he, mother?” said Kalle, stroking her face.
“And so well-dressed he is too!” exclaimed Lasse.
“Yes, he takes care of his money. He’s not dissipated, like his father; and he’s not afraid of parting with a ten-krone note when he’s at home here on a visit.”
There was a rustling at the inner door, and a little, wrinkled old woman crept out onto the threshold, feeling her way with her feet, and holding her hands before her face to protect it. “Is any one dead?” she asked as she faced the room.
“Why, there’s grandmother!” said Kalle. “I thought you’d be in your bed.”
“And so I was, but then I heard there were strangers here, and one likes to hear the news. Have there been any deaths in the parish?”
“No, grandmother, there haven’t. People have something better to do than to die. Here’s some one come to court you, and that’s much better. This is mother-in-law,” he said, turning to the others; “so you can guess what she’s like.”
“Just you come here, and I’ll mother-in-law you!” said the old lady, with a feeble attempt to enter into the gaiety. “Well, welcome to this house then,” she said, extending her hand.
Kalle stretched his out first, but as soon as she touched it, she pushed it aside, saying: “Do you think I don’t know you, you fool?” She felt Lasse’s and Pelle’s hands for a long time with her soft fingers before she let them go. “No, I don’t know you!” she said.