hastily
advanced to meet him, took his hand in both of his, and said: "So I've
won my wager, and can exult over my wise child, who for once was not so
clever as her old father."

"What was your wager?" asked Edwin.

"Whether you would come or not. Leah said you had only promised, in
order to avoid telling us to our faces, that you did not wish to teach
such an ignorant pupil. With all your kindness, you glanced around you
in such an indifferent way--looked so absent, and in a certain sense
weary--"

"My dear sir," interrupted Edwin, "your daughter deserved to win the
wager for her penetration. I _am_ somewhat weary and absent-minded, my
head is revenging itself because I have racked my brains too often, and
the injuries it received cannot be quickly healed. In fact, if it were
not for you and your daughter, I should be wiser to defer our lessons
till a more favorable time. But if you prefer--"

"Leah! Leah!" cried the little artist, darting forward into the house.
"Where are you?"

The young girl was just coming out of the studio, in the same plain
brown dress she had worn the day before. Her black eyes greeted Edwin
with a quiet, almost wondering glance.

"I hear, Fraeulein," he said in a jesting tone, "that you have lost a
wager on my account. You thought I would not come again, and as people
usually believe what they desire--"

She gazed at him with a look, that entreated him to spare her
embarrassment.

"It's true," she said blushing, "and I'm very much frightened to think
that I must confess to some one _how_ ignorant and bewildered I am. I
was so anxious last night, that I could scarcely sleep."

"Than we must relieve you as quickly as possible," he answered smiling.
"I will make any wager that you will sleep admirably to-night."

"Do you also know what is the forfeit of our bet?" cried the artist
merrily rubbing his hands: "the loser was to paint you something, you
may rejoice that you will have a picture by Leah, instead of one of my
wretched daubs. You see virtue is its own reward."

They had entered the studio, which to-day seemed far more neatly
arranged. Instead of the desk with its painting apparatus, a table
containing only writing materials and a portfolio, stood at Leah's
window. But there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on the sill, tall
dahlias and asters whose bright colors mingled as if they wished to
conceal the dull grey of the bare wall outside.

"We thought you would be more undi