As soon as the preacher had stepped down from the pulpit they went out. Ingmar hurriedly hitched up the horse, with Brita's help. By the time the benediction was pronounced and the congregation was beginning to file out, Brita and Ingmar were already off. Both seemed to be thinking the same thought: one who has committed such a crime cannot live among people. The two fell as if they had been doing penance by appearing at church. "Neither of us will be able to stand it," they thought. In the midst of her distress of mind, Brita caught a glimpse of the Ingmar Farm, and hardly knew it again. It looked so bright and red. She remembered having heard that the house was to be painted the year Ingmar married. Before, the wedding had been put off because he had felt that he could not afford to pay out any money just then. Now she understood that he had always meant to have everything right; but the way had been made rather hard for him. When they arrived at the farm the folks were at dinner. "Here comes the boss," said one of the men, looking out. Mother Martha got up from the table, scarcely lifting her heavy eyelids. "Stay where you are, all of you!" she commanded. "No one need rise from the table." The old woman walked heavily across the room. Those who turned to look after her noticed that she had on her best dress, with her silk shawl across her shoulders, and her silk kerchief on her head, as if to emphasize her authority. When the horse stopped she was already at the door. Ingmar jumped down at once, but Brita kept her seat. He went over to her side and unfastened the carriage apron. "Aren't you going to get out?" he said. "No," she replied, then covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears. "I ought never to have come back," she sobbed. "Oh, do get down!" he urged. "Let me go back to the city; I'm not good enough for you." Ingmar thought that maybe she was right about it, but said nothing. He stood with his hand on the apron, and waited. "What does she say?" asked Mother Martha from the doorway. "She says she isn't good enough for us," Ingmar replied, for Brita's words could scarcely be heard for her sobs. "What is she crying about?" asked the old woman. "Because I am such a miserable sinner," said Brita, pressing her hands to her heart which she thought would break. "What's that?" the old woman asked once more. "She says she is such a miserable sinner," Ingmar repeated. When Brita heard him repeat her words in a cold and indifferent tone, the truth suddenly flashed upon her. No, he could never have stood there and repeated those words to his mother had he been fond of her, or had there been a spark of love in his heart for her. "Why doesn't she get down?" the old woman then asked. Suppressing her sobs, Brita spoke up: "Because I don't want to bring misfortune upon Ingmar."