He caught the sound of wagon wheels from the road, and looked out. He knew at once whose rig it was. "The senator from Bergskog is coming!" he shouted into the kitchen, where his mother was at work. Instantly fresh wood was laid on the fire and the coffee mill was set going. The senator drove into the yard, where he pulled up without alighting. "No, I'm not going into the house," he said, "I only want a word or two with you, Ingmar. I'm rather pressed for time as I am due at the parish meeting." "Mother is just making some fresh coffee," said Ingmar. "Thank you, but I must not be late." "It's a good while now since you were here, Senator," said Ingmar pressingly. Then Ingmar's mother appeared in the doorway, and protested: "Surely you're not thinking of going without first coming in for a drop of coffee?" Ingmar unbuttoned the carriage apron, and the senator began to move. "Seeing it's Mother Martha herself that commands me I suppose I shall have to obey," he said. The senator was a tall man of striking appearance, with a certain ease of manner. He was of a totally different stamp from Ingmar or his mother, who were very plain looking, with sleepy faces and clumsy bodies. But all the same, the senator had a profound respect for the old family of Ingmars, and would gladly have sacrificed his own active exterior to be like Ingmar, and to become one of the Ingmassons. He had always taken Ingmar's part against his own daughter, so felt rather light of heart at being so well received. In a while, when Mother Martha had brought the coffee, he began to state his errand. "I thought," he said, and cleared his throat. "I thought you had best be told what we intend to do with Brita." The cup which Mother Martha held in her hand shook a little, and the teaspoon rattled in the saucer. Then there was a painful silence. "We have been thinking that the best thing we could do would be to send her to America." He made another pause, only to be met by the same ominous silence. He sighed at the thought of these unresponsive people. "Her ticket has already been purchased." "She will come home first, of course," said Ingmar. "No; what would she be doing there?" Again Ingmar was silent. He sat with his eyes nearly closed, as if he were half asleep. Then Mother Martha took a turn at asking questions. "She'll be needing clothes, won't she?" "All that has been attended to; there is a trunk, ready packed, at Loevberg's place, where we always stop when we come to town." "Her mother will be there to meet her, I suppose?" "Well, no. She would like to, but I think it best that they be spared a meeting." "Maybe so." "The ticket and some money are waiting for her at Loevberg's, so that she will have everything she needs. I felt that Ingmar ought to know of it, so he won't have this burden on his mind any longer," said the senator. Then Mother Martha kept still, too. Her headkerchief had slipped back, and she sat gazing down at her apron.