“I do believe some one else is coming,” cried Olga, going to the window and peering out. She uttered a dismayed cry, and the rest crowded behind her.
Black Eric dashed up in a smart new buggy, to which were hitched two slim, shining horses. A moment later, whip in hand, he entered the store. He looked around, smiling at the group, and began shaking hands, greeting each one jovially.
“And here’s Olga, too,” he cried, his black eyes snapping with delight as he stepped up to her. The young woman’s face flushed hotly. Silent Sven edged nearer.
“My name is Mrs. Nillson,” she said coldly, refusing to take his hand.
“Ven can I come for coffee and some of your good äppelkaka?” he smirked, laughing at her dismay.
“Talk Swede so I can understand,” croaked the old woman puffing viciously at her pipe, “and leave Olga alone. You needn’t put on airs, for all you’ve been to the city.”
“Well, old sourface!” he answered good-naturedly. “Anything to please such a beauty as you! Ta’ mej fan, but I’m glad to be back!” He looked around from face to face, but saw no gleam of welcome. “What’s the matter?” he asked abruptly. They shrank away, as if fearing the ring of command in his voice.
Olga touched her husband’s arm. “Let’s go, dear,” she coaxed. “Let’s go at once.”
“We’ll stay yet awhile,” answered Sven, flashing her a reassuring smile.
“He’ll get them all in his power,” she whispered. “Just as he had them before. Every one of us. I can feel it in his voice.” She tugged at his sleeve.