It proved that Johanson had taken his seat on the girls' side, and carefully away from him the skirts of those nearest to him were drawn; for it had been whispered around the parish that the queer man at the poorhouse had never been confirmed. An outcast of the outcasts he must be, was the common conviction.
A hymn was to be sung, all sitting, to open the meeting. Little Elsa went round with the "psalm-books" in a basket, and began with Johanson, who took one as he was requested. The pastor began, and the young voices joined him. There was a hush for a second, when a wonderful tenor came in, and seemed to fill the room with a strange melody.
But one verse was sung; then followed a short prayer from the church liturgy, after which the lesson began.
Johanson sat alone in his corner, when Elsa tripped away from her mother, and giving a gleeful little hop, she seated herself beside him, laid her small hand lightly on his knee, and looked up at him lovingly and protectingly as she did so. Now she felt she really owned him. He was her poor man, a kind of friend and relation to her.
Through all those long preparatory lessons Elsa kept her place by the side of the dark man, without word or comment from her parents.
The time for the confirmation was drawing near. "I do not know what I shall do about Johanson," said the pastor to his wife. "I get nothing from him in the class except plain, direct, and most correct answers to my questions. I suppose it must be all right, but we don't seem to come near to each other at all. He is a wild, strange man. Perhaps you could somehow get on better with him."
"Maybe Elsa could," said the wife. "She loves him. Perhaps that is what he feels the need of among us who call ourselves Christians."
"Call ourselves Christians!" repeated the pastor, in as severe a tone of reproach as he had ever addressed to his wife.
She did not seem to notice his manner, but went on: "Elsa might reach him. You know it says, 'A little child shall lead them.' I'll send her to the poorhouse this afternoon with a message to Johanson from me, and the book she likes so much. I know which is her favourite picture, and she will be sure to tell him about it."
"Send her to the poorhouse!" exclaimed the pastor.