, Gyda?'

Gyda answered that they were 'very bad;' she meant in their
way of life and their thriving on it.

'And how otherwise?'

There seemed to be not much to say 'otherwise.' They were very
good to her, Gyda remarked. Wych Hazel listened, but she
risked no more questions. The supper lingered a while longer;
Gyda and Rollo talking of various things and drawing in Wych
Hazel when they could; then Gyda fetched a book and opened it
and laid before Rollo. He left the table and came to Wych
Hazel's side.

'Gyda always, when she can, has prayers with her visitors,' he
said, 'and she makes them read for her. She, and I, would like
it if you do the reading to-night. Will you?'

How easily she started to-night!--Hazel answered without
looking up--

'She would rather have you.'

'No, she wouldn't. Excuse me! She asked me to ask you.'

The girl had not found her feet yet, nor got clear of her
bewilderment. And so, before she more than half knew what she
was about she had taken the book and was reading--absolutely
reading aloud to those two!--the ninety-first Psalm. Aloud, it
was; but only because the voice was so wonderfully clear and
sweet-toned could they have heard a word. As it was, neither
listener lost one.

They knelt then, and Gyda uttered a prayer sweet enough to
follow the Psalm. A little louder than Wych Hazel's low key,
but not less quiet in tone. It was not long; she took those
two, as it were, in the arms of her love, and presented them
as candidates for all the blessing of the Psalm; making her
plea for the two, somehow, a compound and homogeneous one.

The sun was down: it was time to get to horse--for the riders.
Gyda's farewells were very affectionate in feeling, though
also very quiet in manner.

'Will you come to see me again?' she asked of Wych Hazel,
while Rollo was gone out to see to the horses.

'Will you let me? I should like to come.'

'Then you'll come,' said Gyda. She had shaken hands with Rollo
before. But now when he came in for Wych Hazel he went up to
where Gyda was standing, bent down and kissed her.

'Miss Kennedy, have you said "Tak foer maden?" '

'I? No. How should I?' said Wych Hazel; 'is it a spell?'

'Come here,' said he, laughing. 'You must shake hands with
Gyda and say, "Tak foer maden;" that is, "Thanks for the meat."
That is Norwegian good manners, and you are in a Norwegian
house. Come and say it.'

She came shyly, trying to laugh too, and again held out her