may want to."

Yes, there was certainly something he wished the son to say--to
Confess--but surely he did not expect him to liken himself to one
who was suspected of having caused the death of his father-in-law?

Ol' Bengtsa did not bait his hook again. He stood upon a stone,
with his hands folded--his half-dead eyes fixed on the smooth water.

"Yes--there is pardon for all," he said musingly, "for all who let
their old parents lie waiting and freezing in icy chilliness--
pardon even to this day. But afterward it will be too late!"

Surely this could never have been said for the son's benefit. The
father was no doubt thinking aloud, as is the habit of old people.

Anyhow, the son thought he would try to make the old man talk about
something else. So he said:

"How is the man who went crazy last year getting on?"

"Oh, you mean Jan of Ruffluck! Well, he has been in his right mind
since last fall. He'll not be at the party, either. He's only a
poor crofter like myself; so him you'll not miss, of course."

This was true enough. However, the son was so glad of an excuse to
speak of some one other than Lars Gunnarson, that he asked with
genuine concern what was wrong with Jan of Ruffluck.

"Oh, he's just sick from pining for a daughter who went away about