yes twinkled. "I'll engage you to sing at
mine. You can't fool me, Miss Thea. May I hear you take your lesson this
afternoon?"

"No, you may not. I took it this morning."

He picked up a roll of music that lay behind him on the table. "Is this
yours? Let me see what you are doing."

He snapped back the clasp and began turning over the songs. "All very
fine, but tame. What's he got you at this Mozart stuff for? I shouldn't
think it would suit your voice. Oh, I can make a pretty good guess at
what will suit you! This from 'Gioconda' is more in your line. What's
this Grieg? It looks interesting. TAK FOR DITT ROD. What does that
mean?"

"'Thanks for your Advice.' Don't you know it?"

"No; not at all. Let's try it." He rose, pushed open the door into the
music-room, and motioned Thea to enter before him. She hung back.

"I couldn't give you much of an idea of it. It's a big song."

Ottenburg took her gently by the elbow and pushed her into the other
room. He sat down carelessly at the piano and looked over the music for
a moment. "I think I can get you through it. But how stupid not to have
the German words. Can you really sing the Norwegian? What an infernal
language to sing. Translate the text for me." He handed her the music.

Thea looked at it, then at him, and shook her head. "I can't. The truth
is I don't know either English or Swedish very well, and Norwegian's
still worse," she said confidentially. She not infrequently refused to
do what she was asked to do, but it was not like her to explain her
refusal, even when she had a good reason.

"I understand. We immigrants never speak any language well. But you know
what it means, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then don't frown at me like that, but tell me."

Thea continued to frown, but she also smiled. She was confused, but not
embarrassed. She was not afraid of Ottenburg. He was not one of those
people who made her spine like a steel rail. On the contrary, he made
one venturesome.

"Well, it goes something like this: Thanks for your advice! But I prefer
to steer my boat into the din of roaring breakers. Even if the journey
is my last, I may find what I have never found before. Onward must I go,
for I yearn for the wild sea. I long to fight my way through the angry
waves, and to see how far, and how long I can make them carry me."

Ottenburg took the music and began: "Wait a moment. Is that too fast?
How do you take it? That right?" He pulled up his cu