ight bring your dinner up very early to-day. My brother will come for
me punctually at one o'clock."

"Your birthday, Reginchen! And I have forgotten it! Are you angry with
me? My brother's sickness has given me so much to think of lately. You
know, Reginchen, I wish you all possible good fortune and happiness,
though my congratulations are late; but you are used to seeing me
limp."

"How can you talk so. Herr Walter?" she replied, quietly allowing the
firm little hand he had so cordially grasped to rest in his. "It makes
no difference whether a stupid thing like me, without education or
culture, is seventeen or eighteen. Father says women remain great
children all their lives; so whether they become older or not can be of
little consequence."

"He is only joking, Reginchen. What would your father do without you,
to say nothing of the rest of us in the house? So you are really
eighteen years old to-day? I wish I knew of something that would give
you pleasure; I should like to make you a birthday present."

"I don't want any present," she replied, hastily turning away and
putting her foot on the upper stair. "I have already had so many gifts
from you at Christmas and such times, and my mother always scolds and
says I am too large to receive presents from strange gentlemen. Hark!
she is calling me; I must go, Herr Walter."

She darted down the steep staircase, like an arrow, and Balder, who
remained at the top, heard her singing a song in a clear, childish
voice, as she skipped across the pavement of the courtyard in her
little slippers. As he took the waiter from the low attic stairs where
she had placed it, and limped softly back into the room, he
involuntarily sighed.

Going up to his sleeping brother he gazed at him with affectionate
anxiety. Edwin seemed to be slumbering quietly. His high, beautifully
arched brow was unwrinkled, a smile played around his lips, and his
delicate nostrils quivered slightly, as they always did when he made a
witty speech. His shirt was open at the throat, and a small gold locket
attached to a silk cord and containing a tress of his mother's golden
hair, was plainly visible. Balder wore one like it.

He was about to retire to the window corner again, when a hasty step
was heard on the stairs, and ere Balder could reach the door to stop
the new comer, an eager knock announced a visitor who knew himself to
be welcome at any hour.

"Come in!" said Edwin, as he slowly rose from his