oy and listen?" she exclaimed, playfully
emphasizing each word with a light rap on his curly pate.

"Ouch! that hurts," cried Arnfinn, and dodged.

"It was meant to hurt," replied Inga, with mock severity, and returned
to "Copperfield."

Presently the seed of a corn-flower struck the tip of her nose, and
again the cane was lifted; but Dora's housekeeping experiences were
too absorbingly interesting, and the blue eyes could not resist their
fascination.

"Cousin Inga," said Arnfinn, and this time with as near an approach
to earnestness as he was capable of at that moment, "I do believe that
Strand is in love with Augusta."

Inga dropped the book, and sent him what was meant to be a glance of
severe rebuke, and then said, in her own amusingly emphatic way:

"I do wish you wouldn't joke with such things, Arnfinn."

"Joke! Indeed I am not joking. I wish to heaven that I were. What a pity
it is that she has taken such a dislike to him!"

"Dislike! Oh, you are a profound philosopher, you are! You think that
because she avoids--"

Here Inga abruptly clapped her hand over her mouth, and, with sudden
change of voice and expression, said:

"I am as silent as the grave."

"Yes, you are wonderfully discreet," cried Arnfinn, laughing, while the
girl bit her under lip with an air of penitence and mortification which,
in any other bosom than a cousin's would have aroused compassion.

"Aha! So steht's!" he broke forth, with another burst of merriment;
then, softened by the sight of a tear that was slowly gathering beneath
her eyelashes, he checked his laughter, crept up to her side, and in a
half childishly coaxing, half caressing tone, he whispered:

"Dear little cousin, indeed I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You are
not angry with me, are you? And if you will only promise me not to tell,
I have something here which I should like to show you."

He well knew that there was nothing which would sooner soothe Inga's
wrath than confiding a secret to her; and while he was a boy, he had,
in cases of sore need, invented secrets lest his life should be made
miserable by the sense that she was displeased with him. In this
instance her anger was not strong enough to resist the anticipation of
a secret, probably relating to that little drama which had, during
the last weeks, been in progress under her very eyes. With a resolute
movement, she brushed her tears away, bent eagerly forward, and, in the
next moment, her face was