Each morning the wreath of white frost roses bloomed anew on the nail heads. On the walls of round logs the cold found ever new holes and cracks. But next winter it might penetrate here as much as it pleased; no living soul would then be in this place, and no fire would burn on the hearth. Next winter they would be protected in a real house. The child Kristina was expecting would have its delicate body sheltered by well-chinked timber walls. The child — that is, if it now turned out to be only one. . The thought had begun to hover in Kristina’s mind, that perhaps a twin birth was in the offing. The new life felt so heavy in her body — hadn’t it felt the same way once before? She had had twins earlier, but only Lill-Marta had survived. If again she gave life to two, would they both live? It was futile to worry about it but she couldn’t help it; she was made that way.
Early one Sunday morning, shortly after New Year’s, the Olaussons came to call unexpectedly. Karl Oskar had been out in the woods looking for a pig which had broken out of its sty, and he had just returned. Neither he nor Kristina had had time to think of their Sunday rest, and they had not yet cleaned up. They were surprised at this early call from their neighbors; when Bible discussions and spiritual gatherings were held, the families did not get together until the afternoon of the Sabbath.
Kristina pulled forth chairs for the callers, who were dressed in their Sunday best. Petrus Olausson had put on a tie and trimmed his beard, and his thin tufts of hair were combed and orderly. Judit wore her best white-frilled black dress which buttoned all the way to her chin. Her black hair was pulled back severely and parted in the middle, displaying a line of skin like a straight white ribbon from her forehead to the top of her skull. On the back of her head she wore a black cap with white embroidery. Her powerful nose stuck out sharply, a spy for her prying eyes. Her mouth as always was tightly closed, the right corner slightly higher than the left.
The couple’s expressions were set in their customary Sabbath severity which Karl Oskar and Kristina recognized from earlier Sundays, but their faces also displayed something serious and ominous. What could they want so early on a Sunday morning?
The Olaussons sat stiffly and ceremoniously and twisted awkwardly on their chairs; they had not come just to amuse themselves, that much was clear.
Karl Oskar began telling them about the pig he had been hunting for over an hour. What luck the weather was so mild this morning — it was an important pig, a sow he intended to send to the boar for mating when her time came again.
Petrus Olausson listened absentmindedly. Then he said, “We have come to call on a matter of great spiritual importance.”
He raised his chin with its newly trimmed beard and spoke as if he were reading aloud from the Bible. “We have come to open your eyes and to warn you, our beloved neighbors and fellow Christians.”
“To open your eyes, indeed!” interrupted the wife, adjusting her cap, which had slid down over her left ear.
“It is the duty of a person who sees to warn the one who is blind,” continued the husband. “It is our duty as Christians to safeguard our neighbors’ souls.”
“Exactly so,” echoed the wife. “We are here to fulfill our duty.”
“It concerns your souls, our dear neighbors. .”
Karl Oskar and Kristina listened with increasing confusion. Their neighbors spoke as if the Almighty himself had sent them here with the message that the Day of Doom would come on the morrow.
Petrus Olausson went on. “We have for a long time thought about this. We have hesitated, delayed. As Christians we can now no longer be responsible.”
“What’s this all about?” exclaimed Kristina. “What in the world is going on?”
“I will tell you.” He rose and moved closer to her. “Some time ago I met in this house an unknown woman. A Swedish woman. You must recall our meeting. .? The woman had. .”
“You said she made a fright of herself in a hat!” interrupted Judit.
“That is correct — she wore a hat on her head. A very large piece of headgear, full of vanity and most outlandish.”
Judit Olausson had her opinion. “A Swedish woman gone plumb crazy of vanity! Putting on a hat when she gets to America!” Her voice was brittle with disgust.
“I have now learned who this woman is,” said Petrus Olausson slowly, as if announcing a great discovery.
“You must mean Ulrika, I gather,” said Kristina.
“That’s her name, that scarecrow,” confirmed Judit, pulling up the right corner of her mouth still further.
“But Ulrika didn’t put on a hat from vanity — she is as good as any upper-class woman,” said Kristina. “We’re intimate friends.”
“Friends?” interrupted the neighbor. “My poor woman — this ‘friend’ of yours is married to the Baptist minister in Stillwater!”
“She has gone over to her husband’s religion and she has been rebaptized!” echoed Judit.
“I know all that; it concerns no one but herself.”
Olausson straightened up to give greater weight to his words: “You also know this: we must have no connection with lost souls! We must keep clear of sectarians. And that is why you must have nothing to do with this woman who is the wife of the Stillwater priest.”
Karl Oskar and Kristina stared at each other. At last they began to grasp their neighbors’ purpose.
“Look out for this Mrs. Jackson. Don’t let that woman into your house. Don’t ever open your door to her again.”
Karl Oskar snorted loudly. Petrus Olausson’s advice seemed to him so outrageous that he wanted to laugh. But he held his tongue.
“With this Mrs. Jackson you admit the Evil One into your home,” continued Olausson. “I heard that woman’s raw and unbecoming speech. She carries the devil’s own tongue in her sweet mouth. Without you being aware of it, she pours irreligion’s poison into your ears. Only because of Christian love do we wish to warn you. It concerns your soul!”
“We do our duty as Christians!” added Judit.
“We only wish your best, dear neighbor. Listen to your friends’ advice; have nothing more to do with that woman!”
Olausson turned toward Kristina, whose face had stiffened as she listened. Words stuck in her throat as she tried to answer.
“Uncle Petrus. . do. . do you know. . you’re talking about my best friend in America. .”
“Yes, I know. And because of this friendship the danger is so much greater for you.”
“You’re blind!” insisted the neighbor wife. “Friendship blinds people.”
“Mrs. Jackson offers you her hand and you do not perceive the claw hidden in the paw.”
“Because you are blind!”
Kristina’s face had turned flaming red. What was this her neighbor asked of her? She needed time to collect herself in order to understand. They asked that she sacrifice her friendship for Ulrika and close her door to her! This friendship. . She remembered so well what Ulrika had once said to her: I sold my body at times for a loaf of bread, but my friendship costs more than any man or woman can pay. I don’t throw it away on just anyone. But you have it, Kristina. You have it for all time. Of that you can be sure. You got it that time when you shared your bread with me on the journey. You have received the most valuable possession I have to give to any human being. That was what Ulrika had said, that was how valuable was her friendship. And she, Kristina, had it; Ulrika had by her actions proven it to her. And here came these people, demanding that she repay good with evil and deny her friendship for Ulrika, that she behave treacherously, that she betray her best friend. .!