_Stories by Foreign Authors_, 10 vols., Charles Scribner's Sons. _Stories New and Old_ (American and English), Hamilton W. Mabie, The Macmillan Co. _World's Greatest Short-Stories_, Sherwin Cody, A.C. McClurg & Co. _The American Short-Story_, Elias Lieberman. THE FATHER[1] _By Björnstjerne Björnson (1838-1910)_ The man whose story is here to be told was the wealthiest and most influential person in his parish; his name was Thord Överaas. He appeared in the priest's study one day, tall and earnest. "I have gotten a son," said he, "and I wish to present him for baptism." "What shall his name be?" "Finn,—after my father." "And the sponsors?" They were mentioned, and proved to be the best men and women of Thord's relations in the parish. "Is there anything else?" inquired the priest, and looked up. The peasant hesitated a little. "I should like very much to have him baptized by himself," said he, finally. "That is to say on a week-day?" "Next Saturday, at twelve o'clock noon." "Is there anything else?" inquired the priest, "There is nothing else;" and the peasant twirled his cap, as though he were about to go. Then the priest rose. "There is yet this, however." said he, and walking toward Thord, he took him by the hand and looked gravely into his eyes: "God grant that the child may become a blessing to you!" One day sixteen years later, Thord stood once more in the priest's study. "Really, you carry your age astonishingly well, Thord," said the priest; for he saw no change whatever in the man. "That is because I have no troubles," replied Thord. To this the priest said nothing, but after a while he asked: "What is your pleasure this evening?" "I have come this evening about that son of mine who is to be confirmed to-morrow." "He is a bright boy." "I did not wish to pay the priest until I heard what number the boy would have when he takes his place in the church to-morrow." "He will stand number one." "So I have heard; and here are ten dollars for the priest." "Is there anything else I can do for you?" inquired the priest, fixing his eyes on Thord. "There is nothing else." Thord went out. Eight years more rolled by, and then one day a noise was heard outside of the priest's study, for many men were approaching, and at their head was Thord, who entered first. The priest looked up and recognized him. "You come well attended this evening, Thord," said he. "I am here to request that the banns may be published for my son: he is about to marry Karen Storliden, daughter of Gudmund, who stands here beside me." "Why, that is the richest girl in the parish." "So they say," replied the peasant, stroking back his hair with one hand. The priest sat a while as if in deep thought, then entered the names in his book, without making any comments, and the men wrote their signatures underneath. Thord laid three dollars on the table. "One is all I am to have," said the priest.