st loved child!" she whispered; and she gathered the
poor suffering soul near to her.

In about half an hour the Disagreeable Man and Bernardine sat down to
their meal. Robert Allitsen had ordered a bottle of Sassella, and he was
just pouring it out when Catharina brought in the _forellen_.

"Why, Catharina," he said, "you don't mean you've cooked them? Then they
will be good!" She smiled, and seemed pleased, and then went out of the
room.

Then he told Bernardine her history, and spoke with such kindness and
sympathy that Bernardine was again amazed at him. But she made no remark.

"Catharina was always sorry that I was ill," he said. "When I stayed
here, as I have done, for weeks together, she used to take every care
of me. And it was a kindly sympathy which I could not resent. In those
days I was suffering more than I have done for a long time now, and she
was very pitiful. She could not bear to hear me cough. I used to tell
her that she must learn not to feel. But you see she did not learn her
lesson, for when this trouble came on her, she felt too much. And you
see what she is."

They had a cheery meal together, and then Bernardine talked with the
old mother, whilst the Disagreeable Man busied himself with his camera.
Liza was for putting on her best dress, and doing her hair in some
wonderful way. But he would not hear of such a thing. But seeing that
she looked disappointed, he gave in, and said she should be photographed
just as she wished; and off she ran to change her attire. She went up to
her room a picturesque, homely working girl, and she came down a tidy,
awkward-looking young woman, with all her finery on, and all her charm
off.

The Disagreeable Man grunted, but said nothing.

Then Hans arrived, and then came the posing, which caused much
amusement. They both stood perfectly straight, just as a soldier stands
before presenting arms. Both faces were perfectly expressionless. The
Disagreeable Man was in despair.

"Look happy!" he entreated.

They tried to smile, but the anxiety to do so produced an expression of
melancholy which was too much for the gravity of the photographer. He
laughed heartily.

"Look as though you weren't going to be photographed," he suggested.
"Liza, for goodness' sake look as though you were baking the bread;
and Hans, try and believe that you are doing some of your beautiful
carving."

The patience of the photographer was something wonderful. At last he
succeeded i