"Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alex-andra asked as she rose from the table. "Come into the sitting-room."The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chair he shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for him to speak. He stood looking at the car-pet, his bushy head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed to have grown shorter with years, and they were com-pletely misfitted to his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders.
"Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked after she had waited longer than usual.
Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaint and grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. He always addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hoping to set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought too fam-iliar in their manners.
"Mistress," he began faintly, without raising his eyes, "the folk have been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has been talk.""Talk about what, Ivar?"
"About sending me away; to the asylum."
Alexandra put down her sewing-basket.
"Nobody has come to me with such talk," she said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You know I would never consent to such a thing."Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his little eyes. "They say that you can-not prevent it if the folk complain of me, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say that your brothers are afraid--God forbid!--that I may do you some injury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one think that?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!" The tears trickled down on the old man's beard.
Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should come bothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house, and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So long as I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said."Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse and wiped his eyes and beard. "But I should not wish you to keep me if, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hard for you to get hands because I am here."Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out his hand and went on earnestly:--"Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these things into account. You know that my spells come from God, and that I would not harm any living creature. You believe that every one should worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is not the way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike.
I am despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut my hair, and because Ihave visions. At home, in the old country, there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who had seen things in the grave-yard at night and were different afterward. We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a man is different in his feet or in his head, they put him in the asylum. Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek, he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat only such food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, it became enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about in him, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself. He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but they locked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way; they have built the asylum for people who are dif-ferent, and they will not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Only your great pros-perity has protected me so far. If you had had ill-fortune, they would have taken me to Has-tings long ago."
As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that she could often break his fasts and long penances by talking to him and let-ting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathy always cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him.
"There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar.
Like as not they will be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo; and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here. Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let people go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think best. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have gone to you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. That ought to satisfy you."Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you with their talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishes all these years, though you have never questioned me; washing them every night, even in winter."Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We can remember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I ex-pect old Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, if she dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law."Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "You know what they have over at Lou's house? A great white tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to wash themselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, they were all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby.
She took me in and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible to wash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you could not make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her in there, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when they are all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keeps under her bed."Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't let her wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visit me, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as much beer as she wants.
We'll start an asylum for old-time people, Ivar."Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back into his blouse. "This is always the way, mistress. I come to you sor-rowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will you be so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the brown gelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?""That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am going to drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who is to buy my alfalfa hay."
