Karin smiled for a moment kindly, and then said soberly, "If only Uncle Pelle were here! I should so like to know what he would say."
Old Pelle had gone on his pedestrian trip. Not that he had any sportsman accoutrements, or used any slang as to the particulars of his expedition. In one respect he was prepared for his excursion on the strictest modern principles. He was lightly equipped as to clothing, and in woollen garments from top to toe. Better still, he had a light heart within, and a thankful one. He was out on a pleasant errand.
Pelle was now a settled resident in the parish where the golden cottage stood, with occupation pledged to him while he had strength to work, and a support as long as life lasted. The colonel had settled that matter; and Karin rejoiced to see the shadows cleared from the old man's future, with the bright prospect of his continuing to be "a blessing" to them, as she said, "while he was above the green grass."
Pelle had left a few trifles at the poorhouse, where he had been grudgingly received during his last long attack of serious illness. He had before been unable to make up his mind to go after his small belongings. There had been lingering in the depths of his heart a germ of bitterness about the whole affair, and he had been afraid it might spring into strong life if he returned to see the old place again. Now the rankling, tormenting thoughts had vanished in the sunshine that had come to him, and he was sure it would be pleasant to see the familiar scenes again, and to take well-known people by the hand in a friendly way, and let bygones be bygones.
Pelle had been rowed over to the opposite side of the bay, to avoid an unnecessary bit of walking; and now that he was expected home, Nono was sent across the water to meet him. Nono was already in the boat and taking up the oars, when Alma came strolling along the shore with her hands full of wild flowers, for she had been botanizing. "Let me row with you," she said eagerly to Nono.
"Yes," said Nono; "I am going after Uncle Pelle. But the boat—" and he looked at Alma's light dress, and then at the traces left of the last trip of the fishermen to whom the boat belonged.
"Never mind that," said Alma cheerily. "I can manage my dress, and I do so love to row." She seated herself and took up a pair of oars.
It was a long pull across the bay, and they were only half over when they saw a sail-boat in front of them, making for the wider part of the inlet.
"Not very good sailors, I think," said Nono critically, for Pelle had taught him how to trim a sail. He had hardly spoken the word when a flaw struck the little skiff they were watching, and it capsized instantly. There was a loud shriek from the place of the accident, and a groan from Nono and Alma. They could soon see two heads, and arms clinging to the upturned boat. Alma and Nono rowed desperately towards the spot, but made slow progress, as the bay had suddenly grown rough, and the wind was contrary. They could distinguish the faces now. One was unknown, but Alma's eyes grew large and full of anguish as she recognized her brother. "It is Frans!" she said to Nono.
"Yes," was his only reply, and they pulled with even more determination than before. In a few moments Frans and his companion were taken on board by Alma and Nono.