in the schools, and don't care about them now either. Oh, you
ought to have seen my mother; she was such a tiny wee lady. When I was
no older than thirteen I could carry her down into the garden. She was
so light; in recent years I would often carry her on my arm through the
whole garden and park. I can still see her in her black gowns with the
many wide laces...."

He seized the oars and rowed violently. The councilor became a little
uneasy, when the water reached so high at the stern, and suggested, that
they had better see about getting home again; so back they went.

"Tell me," said the girl, when the violence of his rowing had decreased
a little. "Do you often go to town?"

"I have never been there."

"Never been there? And you only live twelve miles away?"

"I don't always live here, I live at all sorts of places since my
mother's death, but the coming winter I shall go to town to study
arithmetic."

"Mathematics?"

"No, timber," he said laughingly, "but that is something you don't
understand. I'll tell you, when I am of age I shall buy a sloop and sail
to Norway, and then I shall have to know how to figure on account of the
customs and clearance."

"Would you really like that?"

"Oh, it, is magnificent on the sea, there is such a feeling of being
alive in sailing--here we are at the landing-stage!"

He came alongside; the councilor and his daughter stepped ashore after
having made him promise to come and see them at Cape Trafalgar. Then
they returned to the bailiff's, while he again rowed out on the lake. At
the poplar they could still hear the sounds of the oars.

"Listen, Camilla," said the councilor, who had been out to lock the
outer door, "tell me," he said, extinguishing his hand-lamp with the
bit of his key, "was the rose they had at the Carlsens a Pompadour or
Maintenon?"

"Cendrillon," the daughter answered.

"That's right, so it was,--well, I suppose we had better see that we get
to bed now; good night, little girl, good night, and sleep well."

When Camilla had entered her room, she pulled up the blind, leaned
her brow against the cool pane, and hummed Elizabeth's song from "The
Fairy-hill." At sunset a light breeze had begun to blow and a few tiny,
white clouds, illumined by the moon, were driven towards Camilla. For
a long while she stood regarding them; her eye followed them from a
far distance, and she sang louder and louder as they drew nearer, kept
silent a few seconds while the