“He’s helping Hilda with the dishes. He does it of his own will; I don’t like a boy to be too handy about the house.”
“He seems like a nice kid.”
“He’s very obedient.”
Nils smiled a little in the dark. It was just as well to shift the line of conversation. “What are you knitting there, Mother?”
“Baby stockings. The boys keep me busy.” Mrs. Ericson chuckled and clicked her needles.
“How many grandchildren have you?”
“Only thirty-one now. Olaf lost his three. They were sickly, like their mother.”
“I supposed he had a second crop by this time!”
“His second wife has no children. She’s too proud. She tears about on horseback all the time. But she’ll get caught up with, yet. She sets herself very high, though nobody knows what for. They were low enough Bohemians she came of. I never thought much of Bohemians; always drinking.”
Nils puffed away at his pipe in silence, and Mrs. Ericson knitted on. In a few moments she added grimly: “She was down here to-night, just before you came. She’d like to quarrel with me and come between me and Olaf, but I don’t give her the chance. I suppose you’ll be bringing a wife home some day.”