Falla yesterday and invited him."

"Maybe he's weary of these parties," said the son.

"Oh, no," returned Ol' Bengtsa. "I'm sure he'd be only too glad to
come, but there's something that's keeping him away." He did not
explain further just then, but while they were having their coffee,
he went back to the subject. "You mustn't feel so badly because
Lars isn't coming this evening," he said. "I don't believe you'd
care for his company any more."

"You don't mean that he has taken to drink?"

"That wasn't such a bad guess! He took to it suddenly in the
spring, and since Midsummer Day he hasn't drawn a sober breath."

During these visits the father and son immediately they had
finished their coffee always went fishing. The old man usually kept
very still on these occasions, so as not to scare the fish away,
but this year was the exception. He spoke to the son time and
again. His words came with difficulty, as always, still there
seemed to be more life in him now than ordinarily. Evidently there
was something special he wanted to say, or rather something he
wished to draw from his son. He was like one who stands outside an
empty house shouting and calling, in the hope that somebody will
come and open the door to him.

He harked back to Lars Gunnarson several times, relating in part
what had occurred at the catechetical meeting, and he even dragged
in all the gossip that had been circulated about Lars in the