"I know it will be a boy--and I can feel in my blood that he will be just the son to work with his father as you said.

"And then about his room--you take my breath away! I can see you are making preparations as if for a queen and an heir to the throne. I ought to tell you to undo it all again; but who could ever tell anyone to undo what was done in love--for it was for love you did it, not for show.

"So you are already fighting for your draining project; it is just as well, it will be worth the more. Anyhow, I know you will win. Fight as hard as you like, fight for me and for him. It is only a pity he can't set to work at once and help you.

"We too are longing to be home again. And perhaps it will not be so long now. But if it has to be, I can be patient as long as I must. We are better than ever now. Do you know, I am so happy these days I have taken to singing, just as I used to do when I was a girl. What do you say to that? Suppose he were to have a voice, and sing in the choir, and leave you to work at your drainage all by yourself!

"My love, my love, I kiss you right in your heart. The warmest love from us both--I know you will be writing to us soon.

"KYLLIKKI (waiting to be a mother)."

"His BIRTHPLACE, _10th Sept., 11 a.m._

"FATHER!--Yes, that is what you are now. I can see your eyes light up. And a son, of course. At six o'clock this morning. All well, both going on finely; _he_ is simply a picture of health, big and strong and full of life. And such a voice! If you want a man to shout out orders to the workmen.... I haven't looked at him properly yet. He is lying here just beside me; I can see his hand sticking out between the clothes. A fine little hand, not just fat and soft and flabby, but big and strong--his father's hand. The very hand to drain a marsh, you wait and see. And his soul--ah, you should see his eyes! His father's eyes. Now they won't let me write any more. I will tell you more next time. I have sent him a kiss with my eyes, from you--and there is a kiss for you in my thoughts.

"KYLLIKKI (the happy mother)."

THE HOMECOMING

The autumn sun was setting; it smiled upon the meadows, gleamed in the window-panes, and threw a kindly glow upon the distant forest. The air was cool.

Olof was in a strange mood to-day. He walked with light, springy step, and could not keep still for a moment; he was uneasy, and yet glad.

He had sent a man to the station with a horse, and the little servant-maid had been dispatched on an errand to a distant village--he wished to be alone.

He stepped hastily into the bedroom, gave a searching glance round, looked at the thermometer on the wall, and laughed.

"Aha--beginning to look all right now."

Then he went back to the sitting-room. The coffee-pot was simmering its quiet, cheerful song on the fire; close by lay a goodly heap of white pine logs.

He lifted the pot from the fire, poured out a little of the coffee in a cup, and poured it back again. Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked up and down, smiling and whistling to himself.

"Wonder what she will think, when I don't come to the station to meet her there? But she'll understand... yes...."

He went back to the fire, poured out another half-cup of coffee, and tasted it.

"H'm--yes. It's good, I think it's good."

He took a bit of rag, wiped the pot carefully, and set it back. Then he looked at the clock.

"They ought to be at Aittamaki by now--or Simola at least...."

He stepped across to the cupboard, took out a white cloth and spread it on a tray, set out cups and saucers, cream jug and sugar bowl, and placed the tray on the table.

"There--that looks all right!"

Again he glanced impatiently at the clock.

"They'll be at the cross-roads now, at Vaarakorva ... might take that little stretch at a trot ... if only they don't drive too hard. Well, Kyllikki'll look to that herself...."

Again he felt that curious sense of lightness--as if all that weighed and burdened had melted away, leaving only a thin, slight sh.e.l.l, that would hardly keep to earth at all. He tramped up and down, looking out of the window every moment, not knowing what to do with himself.

"Now!" he cried, looking at the clock again. "Ten minutes more and they should be here!"

He sprang to the fire and threw on an armful of fine dry wood.

"There! Now blaze up as hard as you like. Bright eyes and a warm heart to greet them!"

He went into the bedroom and brought out a tiny basket-work cradle, that he had made himself. The bedding was ready prepared, white sheets hung down over the side, and a red-patterned rug smiled warmly--at the head a soft pillow in a snow-white case.

"There!" He set the cradle before the fire, and drew up the sofa close by. "He can lie there and we can sit here and look at him."

And now that all was ready, a dizziness of joy came over him--it seemed too good to be true. He looked out through the window once more; went out on to the steps and gazed down the road. Looked and listened, came back into the room, and was on the point of starting out to meet them, but thought of the fire--no, he could not leave the house.

At last--the brown figure of a horse showed out from behind the trees at the turn of the road. And at the sight, his heart throbbed so violently that he could not move a step; he stood there, looking out through the window--at the horse and cart, at Kyllikki with her white kerchief, and at the bundle in her arms.

Now they were at the gate. Olof ran out bareheaded, dashing down the path.

"Welcome!" he shouted as he ran.

"Olof!" Kyllikki's voice was soft as ever, and her eyes gleamed tenderly.

"Give him to me!" cried Olof, stretching out his arms impatiently.

And Kyllikki smiled and handed him a tiny bundle wrapped in woollen rugs.

Olof's hands trembled as he felt the weight of it in his arms.

"Help her down, Antti; and come back a little later on--I won't ask you in--not just now," he said confusedly to the driver.

The man laughed, and Kyllikki joined in.

But Olof took no heed--he was already on the way in with his burden. A few steps up the path he stopped, and lifted a corner of the wrappings with one hand. A tiny reddish face with two bright eyes looked up at him.

A tremor of delight thrilled him at the sight; he clasped the bundle closer to his breast, as if fearing to lose it. Hastily he covered up the little face once more, and hurried in.

Kyllikki watched him with beaming eyes. Following after, she stood in the doorway and looked round, with a little cry of surprise and pleasure, taking it all in at a glance--the genial welcome of the blazing fire, the tiny bed,--he had told her nothing of this,--the sofa close by, and the tray set out on the table, and coffee standing ready....

But Olof was bending over the cradle.

"These things--is it safe to undo them?" he asked, fumbling with safety-pins.

"Yes, that's all right," laughed Kyllikki, loosening her own cloak.