If you were to explain the narrative strategy of withholding Jan's "real reason" for his lament, how would you describe its effect on the reader and its role in building suspense for the story ahead?

From the book

stick on the ground, he removed his cap and mopped his brow, then he sat motionless, with hands clasped, and listened. The air was quite still, therefore it could hardly have been the wind that had set all these little musical instruments into motion. It was almost as if the spruces played for very joy at being so young and fresh; at being let stand in peace by the abandoned roadside, with the promise of many years of life ahead of them before any human being would come and cut them down. But if such was the case, it did not explain why the trees sang with such gusto just that day; they…

ult him about." Jan left home in such haste that he had no time to think about the dreadful man he was going to see. But while passing through the groves of the Ashdales toward the big forest the old dread came over him. "It was mighty stupid in me not to have taken Glory Goldie along!" he said to himself. When leaving home he had not seen the girl about, so he concluded that she had betaken herself to some lonely spot in the woods, to weep away her grief, as she never wanted to be seen by any one when she felt downhearted. Just as Jan was about to turn from the road into the forest…

. When Jan returned to the yard he heard Lars thundering and swearing in the stable. Lars was a poor hand with animals. The horses would kick if he went anywhere near them and he had not been able to get one of the beasts out of its stall the whole time that Jan had been inside talking with the housewife. It would not have been well for Jan had he offered to help Lars. Knowing this he went immediately on his other errand, and fetched the hired boy. He thought it mighty strange that Lars had not told him to speak to Börje, who was threshing in the barn close by, instead of sending him…

down with rheumatic fever shortly after their interrupted conversation, and for weeks he had been too ill to see him. Now he was up and about again, but very feeble. The worst of it was that after his illness his memory seemed to be gone. He had waited for him to say something more about Glory Goldie's letter, but as he had failed to do so, and could not even take a hint, he had asked him straight out. And the old man had declared he had not received any letter. To convince Jan he had pulled out the table drawer and thrown back the lid of his clothes-chest, to let him see for himself…

e the ten rix-dollars. Perhaps she also invited the girl to come to see her?" "Maybe she did," said the seine-maker. "Maybe she's so rich that she owns a whole stone house?" "That was a happy thought, friend Jan!" "And maybe the rich old lady will pay Glory Goldie's debt?" Jan began, but stopped short, because the old man's daughter-in-law had just come in, and of course he did not care to let her into the secret. "So you're out to-day, Jan," observed the daughter-in-law. "I'm glad you're feeling better." "For that I have to thank my good friend Ol' Bengtsa!" said Jan, with…