end father and daughter became fast friends. But the greatest
pleasure of all came when she was old enough for him to tell her about
Mother. About Mother, who had come across the sea to Father, bringing
little Marit with her. The walks which he had taken with Mother, the two
took together--every one of them. He rowed her as Mother had rowed him;
they went to town together as Mother and Father had done. There she sat
in the chairs which Mother had bought and sat in. At table she sat in
Mother's place; in conservatory and garden among the flowers she was
Mother, and helped as Mother had done.

What a clever, beautiful child she was! She had her mother's red hair
and brilliantly white skin, her large eyes, and the same delicate, long
line of eyebrow. Possibly she would also have the same aquiline nose.
The hands with the long fingers were not her mother's, nor was the
figure. That very slight forward bend at the joining of head and neck
was like her father's. She had not her mother's prettily squared
shoulders; Marit's sloped, and the arms descended from them in a more
even line. Anders could not resist going up every evening to look at her
when she was being undressed. The mixture of the masculine and feminine
Krog types, which had hitherto been so uncommon, but which her mother
had to a certain extent represented, was complete in her. She grew tall,
her eyes large, her head shapely. Her father could not get her to
associate with other children; it bored her. They did not transport
themselves quickly enough into her imaginary world, which was certainly
a curious one. The fields were a circus--her father had told her about
Buffalo Bill's. The Indians galloped across the plain; she herself, on a
white horse, leading. The ridges were boxes, and they were full of
people. This the other children could not see. Nor could they understand
the travel-game on the table, which her father had taught her to play.

When she was nearly seven, she compelled her father, who was a good
cyclist, to buy her a bicycle and teach her to ride it. But this was the
drop which caused the cup to overflow. He decided to call in help.

In Paris he had made the acquaintance of a distant relation, Mrs. Dawes
by name. This lady had married in England, but after the death of her
only child she left her husband, and supported herself by keeping a
boarding-house in Paris. In this boarding-house Krog had admired her
extremely. He had seldom met a cleverer