“Are you not ashamed, child, to talk like that of God’s word? And you won’t be ready in time either.”
Hedvig had done her hair and Kristin helped her on with the white frock that reached almost to her ankles. She fumbled a long time with the fastenings at the back, and then she arranged the pleats with bony, trembling fingers.
“Just like dressing a little bride,” she muttered. “And truth it is that it is the best of bridegrooms you are meeting today!”
But behind Kristin’s back Hedvig stole a glance at herself in the mirror. It was with a shy, unsteady look she saw her own image. There was not a spark of fresh and natural joy.
Now it was breakfast time. The other children, arrayed in their poor best, were already sitting round the table. But it was impossible to get Hedvig down. She remained in the little girls’ room, and in the end Kristin had to take a plate of porridge to her. Laura also soon came running back. A new frock was anyhow a new frock. And this was almost the beginning of long skirts and putting the hair up. And perhaps she might even see Hedvig cry!
A carriage was heard crunching the gravel outside. Hedvig jumped up. It was only old Hermansson. Yes! of course he must come with them. She sank down on her chair again. Laura was looking at her with big greedy eyes, purring like a cat.
“He is also coming,” she said suddenly in a sleek little voice. “I heard him order the dog-cart.”
Hedvig turned pale, just as one’s knuckles whiten when one clenches one’s fist.
“What he?”
“Mr. Brundin, of course.”