s own way of
dressing and thinking as we have. But I'll see that he doesn't
bother other people. I'll keep him at home, so don't trouble any
more about him, Lou. I've been wanting to ask you about your new
bathtub. How does it work?"

Annie came to the fore to give Lou time to recover himself. "Oh,
it works something grand! I can't keep him out of it. He washes
himself all over three times a week now, and uses all the hot water.
I think it's weakening to stay in as long as he does. You ought
to have one, Alexandra."

"I'm thinking of it. I might have one put in the barn for Ivar,
if it will ease people's minds. But before I get a bathtub, I'm
going to get a piano for Milly."

Oscar, at the end of the table, looked up from his plate. "What
does Milly want of a pianny? What's the matter with her organ?
She can make some use of that, and play in church."

Annie looked flustered. She had begged Alexandra not to say
anything about this plan before Oscar, who was apt to be jealous
of what his sister did for Lou's children. Alexandra did not get
on with Oscar's wife at all. "Milly can play in church just the
same, and she'll still play on the organ. But practising on it
so much spoils her touch. Her teacher says so," Annie brought out
with spirit.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Well, Milly must have got on pretty good
if she's got past the organ. I know plenty of grown folks that
ain't," he said bluntly.

Annie threw up her chin. "She has got on good, and she's going to
play for her commencement when she graduates in town next year."

"Yes," said Alexandra firmly, "I think Milly deserves a piano.
All the girls around here have been taking lessons for years, but
Milly is the only one of them who can ever play anything when you
ask her. I'll tell you when I first thought I would like to give
you a piano, Milly, and that was when you learned that book of old
Swedish songs that your grandfather used to sing. He had a sweet
tenor voice, and when he was a young man he loved to sing. I can
remember hearing him singing with the sailors down in the shipyard,
when I was no bigger than Stella here," pointing to Annie's younger
daughter.

Milly and Stella both looked through the door into the sitting-room,
where a crayon portrait of John Bergson hung on the wall. Alexandra
had had it made from a little photograph, taken for his friends
just before he left Sweden; a slender man of thirty-five, with
soft hair curling about his high f