The man stood and looked at her with stupid eyes. She did not know whether he had understood a word of what she said. She repeated it, but he made no sign of obeying her. She began again to take the things out of the pack. Then he stamped on the ground and tore the pack from her. However should Ingrid be able to make him do what she wanted? On the grass beside her lay a violin and a bow. She took them up mechanically--she did not know herself why. She had probably been so much in the company of people playing the violin that she could not bear to see an instrument lying on the ground. As soon as she touched the violin he let go the pack, and tore the violin from her. He was evidently quite beside himself when anyone touched his violin. He looked quite malicious. What in the world could she do to get away before people came out of church? She began to promise him all sorts of things, just as one promises children when one wants them to be good. 'I will ask father to buy a whole dozen of scythes from you. I will lock up all the dogs when you come to the Parsonage. I will ask mother to give you a good meal.' But there was no sign of his giving way. She bethought herself of the violin, and said in her despair: 'If you will carry me to the Parsonage, I will play for you.' At last a smile flashed across his face. That was evidently what he wanted. 'I will play for you the whole afternoon; I will play for you as long as you like.' 'Will you teach the violin new melodies?' he asked. 'Of course I will.' But Ingrid now became both surprised and unhappy, for he took hold of the pack and pulled it towards him. He dragged it over the graves, and the sweet-williams and southernwood that grew on them were crushed under it as if it were a roller. He dragged it to a heap of branches and wizened leaves and old wreaths lying near the wall round the churchyard. There he took all the things out of the pack, and hid them well under the heap. When it was empty he returned to Ingrid. 'Now you can get in,' he said. Ingrid stepped into the pack, and crouched down on the wooden bottom. The man fastened all the straps as carefully as when he went about with his usual wares, bent down so that he nearly went on his knees, put his arms through the braces, buckled a couple of straps across his chest, and stood up. When he had gone a few steps he began to laugh. His pack was so light that he could have danced with it. * * * * * It was only about a mile from the church to the Parsonage. The Dalar man could walk it in twenty minutes. Ingrid's only wish was that he would walk so quickly that she could get home before the people came back from church. She could not bear the idea of so many people seeing her. She would like to get home when only her mother and the maid-servants were there.