before; he felt neither glad nor sad. His heart had stopped like a
watch that has received a hard blow when he had seen Glory Goldie
on the mountain-top, opening her arms to the whole world.

It had been like this with him once before. Then folks had wanted
him to be glad of the little girl's coming, but he had not cared a
bit about it; now they all expected him to be sad and disconsolate
over her departure, and he was not that, either.

The hut was full of people who had come to say good-bye to Glory
Goldie. Jan had not the face to go in and let them see that he
neither wept nor wailed; so he thought it best to stop outside.

At all events it was a good thing for him matters had taken this
turn, for if all had been as before he knew he should never have
been able to endure the separation, and all the heartache and
loneliness.

A while ago, in passing by the window, he had noticed that the hut
inside was decked with leaves and wild flowers. On the table were
coffee cups, as on the day of which he was thinking. Katrina was
giving a little party in honour of the daughter who was to fare
forth into the wide world to save the home. Every one seemed to be
weeping, both the housefolk and those who had come to bid the
little girl Godspeed. Jan heard Glory Goldie's sobs away out in the
yard, but they had no effect upon him.

"My good people," he mumbled to himself, "this is as it should be.
Look at the young birds! They are thrust out of the nest if they
don't leave it willingly. Have you ever watched a young cuckoo?