e gently over the girl's eyes.

"Oh!" screams the girl. "Who is it? How dare you!" And with a scream
she turns and sees him standing there.

"Good evening," says the young man, laughing, and raising his cap. And
the looker-on notes how the girl only blushes, and makes no answer.

"Did I frighten you?" he goes on. "I meant no harm, I'm sure."

"'Tis no matter," says the girl. "I was only startled for a moment."

"And you're not angry now?"

"Nay; why should I be? For a jest?"

"That's right. I felt directly I saw you as if we were old
friends--only I couldn't remember your name, so I thought I'd just
stop and ask."

Oh, but 'tis a handsome lad--and such a smile, thinks the girl looking
on.

"Pansy, they call me," says the other girl shyly, "but...."

"Say no more," the young man breaks in. "Pansy, they call you--'tis
enough for me."

Surely then the name must be a good one, since he seems to like it so,
thinks the girl looking on.

"And you...?" asks the girl. "You're a stranger, I think."

"Stranger?" cries the young man, with a laugh that echoes through the
room. "Couldn't you feel it was a friend and no 'stranger' when
my hands closed over your eyes?" And he looks at her with such
irresistible friendliness as he speaks, that she cannot but smile--and
the girl looking on smiles too.

"Olof's my name--and no stranger, if you please."

After that he seemed to be thinking for a moment, then suddenly he
asks, "Are you fond of flowers, Pansy?"

"Yes, indeed. And I've two of my own--a fuchsia and a balsamine,"
answers the girl.

"Red flowers both! And do you keep them in your window?"

"Where else should they be?"

"And can you see them from outside?"

"Indeed you can, now they're in bloom."

"And where is your window, then?" says he, with a sly little gleam in
his eyes. "Tell me, so I can see them too when I pass."

The girl opens her lips to answer, but checks herself suddenly. "Nay,
I'll not tell!"

Oh, but how cunning of him, thinks the looker-on. Never was such a sly
one. Anyone else would just have asked straight out where she slept.
And then of course the girl would have been offended at once. But this
young man--he says never a word of anything but flowers.

"In the parlour?" he asks, with a laugh.

"No!"

"Up in the loft, then?"

"No, nor there."

"Then it's the little room at the back."

"No, no!" cries the girl, all confused. "Not there, indeed it's not."

The young man lau