told her father that in a hollow in the
old tree between Mother's and Grandmother's graves there was a little
nest, and in the nest were tiny, tiny little eggs. "It's a message from
Mother, isn't it?" He nodded, and went with her to look at it. But when
they came near, the bird flew out piping lamentably. "Mother says we are
not to go nearer?" questioned Marit. To this her father answered:
"Yes." "It would be the same as disturbing Mother if we did?" continued
she. He nodded.--They walked back to the house, perfectly happy, talking
of Mother all the way. When Marit told Mrs. Dawes about this afterwards,
Mrs. Dawes said to her: "Your father answers 'Yes' to such questions
because he does not want to grieve you, child. If your Mother could send
you a message, she would come herself." There was no end to the
revolution which those few cruel words wrought. They altered even the
relation between the child and her father.

The lessons went on steadily, and so did the training, until Marit was
nearly thirteen--tall, very thin, large-eyed, with luxuriant red hair
and a pure white skin guiltless of freckles, which was Mrs. Dawes's
pride.

About this time Krog came in one day from the library to stop the
lessons. This had not happened during all the years they had gone on.
Marit was allowed to go. Mrs. Dawes accompanied Anders into the library.

"Be kind enough to read this letter."

She read, and learned what she had had no idea of--that the man who was
standing before her, watching her face whilst she read, was a
millionaire--and that not in kroner, but in dollars. Since receiving the
bank deposits and shares at the time of his uncle's death, he had drawn
nothing from America--and this was the result.

"I congratulate you," said Mrs. Dawes, and seized his right hand in both
of hers. Her eyes filled with tears: "And I understand you, dear Mr.
Krog; it is your wish that we should travel now."

He looked at her, a glad smile in his bright eyes. "Have you any
objection, Mrs. Dawes?"

"Not if we take servants with us. You know how lame I am."

"Servants you shall have, and we shall keep a carriage wherever we are.
Lessons can go on, can't they?"

"Of course they can. Better than ever!" She beamed and wept. She said to
herself that she had never felt so happy.

A fortnight later the three, with maid and manservant, had left
Krogskogen.

THE SCEPTRE CHANGES HANDS

Two years and a half passed, during the course