ore stupid every day. If you were wise you would put her into a
reformatory."

George Fasch shrugged his shoulders.

"She is affectionate," he said bluntly, "and she is very unselfish. I
should be sorry to send her from home."

Christina held up her hands.

"I call a girl selfish who gives so much trouble. Gretchen has to wash
out three skirts a week for Anna. She is always spoiling her clothes. I,
on the contrary, call her very selfish, brother."

George Fasch shrugged his shoulders again; he remembered the red and
green apron, and he supposed that Christina must be right; and now, as
he travelled back alone, he asked himself what he must do. Certainly he
saw no reason why he should place Anna in a reformatory--that would be,
he thought, a sure way of making her unhappy, and perhaps even
desperate; but Christina's words had shown him her unwillingness to be
plagued with his daughter's ways, and he shrank from the idea of losing
his useful housekeeper. He had been accustomed to depend on his sister
for the management of the inn, and he felt that no paid housekeeper
would be able to fill Christina's place. Besides, it would cost more
money to pay a stranger.

Yes, he must send Anna away, but he shrank from the idea. There was a
timid, pathetic look in the girl's dark eyes that warned him against
parting her from those she loved. After all, was she not very like her
mother? and his sweet lost wife had often told George Fasch how dreamy
and heedless and stupid she had been in childhood. He was sure that Anna
would mend in time, if only he could hit on some middle course at
present.

The weather had been fine at Zurich; and he was surprised, when he
quitted the train, to see the long wreaths of white vapour that floated
along the valley and up the sides of the hill. It was clearer when he
had crossed the river; but before he reached Malans evening was drawing
in, and everything grew misty.

He had made his purchases at Mayenfeld so as to avoid another stoppage;
and, with his heavy load strapped on his back, he took a by-path that
skirted Malans, and led him straight to the bottom of the descent
without going through the village. There was a group of trees just at
the foot of the path, which increased the gathering gloom.

"My poor child will be tired of waiting," he thought, and he began to
climb the steep ascent more rapidly than usual.

All at once a faint cry reached him; he stopped and listened, but it did