Just then the pastor came along, looking solemn and depressed. He did not stop an instant, but went straight to the house. Mother Stina surmised that he had come to plead Ingmar's cause with Karin and Halvor.
Shortly after, the manager of the sawmills at Bergsåna arrived, and also judge Persson. The manager, who was there in the interest of the corporation, straightway went inside, but Sven Persson walked about in the yard for a while and looked at the things. Presently he stopped in front of a little old man with a big beard, who was sitting on the same pile of boards as Mother Stina.
"I don't suppose you happen to know, Strong Ingmar, whether Ingmar
Ingmarsson has decided to buy the timber I offered him?"
"He says no," the old man answered, "but I shouldn't be surprised if he were to change his mind soon." At the same time he winked and jerked his thumb in the direction of Mother Stina, thus cautioning Sven Persson not to let her hear what they were talking about.
"I should think he'd be satisfied to accept my terms," said the
Judge. "I don't make these offers everyday; but this I'm doing for
Big Ingmar's sake."
"You're right about its being a good offer," the old man agreed, "but he says that he has already made a deal else where."
"I wonder if he has really considered what it is that he's losing?" said Sven Persson, and walked on.
Thus far none of the Ingmarsson family had been seen about the yard; but presently young Ingmar was discovered standing leaning against a wall, quite motionless, and with his eyes half closed. Now a number of people got up to go over and shake hands with him, but when they were quite close, they bethought themselves and went back to their seats.
Ingmar was deathly pale, and every one who looked at him could see that he was suffering keenly; therefore, no one ventured to speak to him. He stood so quietly that many had not even noticed that he was there. But those who had could think of nothing else. Here there was none of the merriment which usually prevails at auctions. With Ingmar standing there, hugging the wall of the old home he was about to lose, they felt no inclination to laugh or to joke.
Then came a moment for the opening of the auction. The auctioneer mounted a chair, and began to offer the first lot—an old plow.