Ingmar ripped out an oath, turned the horse, and sprang into the
cart. He was sick and tired of all this and could not stand any
more of it.

Out on the highway they kept meeting church people. This annoyed
Ingmar. Suddenly he turned the horse and drove in on a narrow
forest road.

As he turned some one called to him. He glanced back. It was the
postman with a letter for him. He took the letter, thrust it into
his pocket, and drove on.

As soon as he felt sure that he could not be seen from the road, he
slowed down and brought out the letter. Instantly Brita put her
hand on his arm. "Don't read it!" she begged.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Never mind reading it; it's nothing."

"But how can you know?"

"It's a letter from me."

"Then tell me yourself what's in it."

"No, I can't tell you that."

He looked hard at her. She turned scarlet, her eyes growing wild
with alarm. "I guess I will read that letter anyway," said Ingmar,