"Yes," the old man answered. "She gets this money because she has been a good daughter to me."
"But this is unfair—"
"No, it is not unfair," drawled the old man in a tired voice. "I have squared myself and owe nobody anything. I might have had one other creditor," he added turning to this son, "but after looking into matters, I find that I haven't."
"You mean me, I suppose," said the son. "But you don't seem to think I—" All that the son had wanted to say to the father was left unsaid, as he was interrupted by a piercing shriek from the opposite side of the table.
Lars Gunnarson had just seized a bottle of brandy and put it to his mouth. His wife, screaming from terror, was trying to take it from him. He held her back until he had emptied half the contents, whereupon he set the bottle down and turned to his wife, his face flushed, his eyes staring wildly, his hands clenched.
"Didn't you hear it was Jan who found the note?" he said in a hoarse voice. "All his dreams come true! Can't you comprehend that the man has the gift of second sight? You'll see that something dreadful will happen to me this day, as he has predicted."
"Why he has only cautioned you to be on your guard," said the wife.
"You begged and teased me to come here so that I should forget what day it was, and now I get this reminder!"
Again Lars raised the brandy bottle to his lips. This time, however, the wife cast herself upon him with prayers and tears. Replacing the bottle on the table, he said with a laugh: "Keep it! Keep it for all of me!" With that he rose and kicked the chair out of his way. "Good-bye to you, Ol' Bengtsa," he said to the host. "I hope you will pardon my leaving, but to-day I must go to a place where I can drink in peace."
He rushed toward the gate, his wife following. When he was passing out into the road, he pushed her back. "Why can't you let me be!" he cried fiercely. "I've had my warning, and I go to meet my doom!"