to her, and put his pipe in his mouth again. Osra sat
down by him and watched him. He puffed and blinked away, never so much
as looking at her.

"What have you for dinner?" asked she presently.

"A piece of cold pie," said he. "There's enough for two, if you're
hungry."

"Would you not like it better hot?"

"Oh, aye; but I cannot weary myself with heating it."

"I'll heat it," said the Princess; and, rising, she went into the
house, and made up the fire, which was almost burnt out; then she
heated the pie, and set the room in order, and laid the table, and drew
a large jug of beer from the cask. Next she placed an arm-chair ready
for the miller, and put the jug by it; then she filled the pipe from
the bowl of tobacco and set a cushion in the chair. All this while she
hummed a tune, and from time to time smiled gayly. Lastly, she
arranged a chair by the elbow of the miller's chair; then she went out
and told him that his dinner was ready; and he stumbled to his feet
with a sigh of laziness, and walked before her into the house.

"May I come?" cried she.

"Aye, there is enough for two," said the Miller of Hofbau without
looking round.

So she followed him in. He sank into the arm-chair and sat there, for
a moment surveying the room which was so neat, and the table so
daintily laid, and the pie so steaming hot. And he sighed, saying:

"It was like this before poor mother died." And he fell to on a great
portion of pie with which Osra piled his plate.

When he had finished eating--which thing did not happen for some
time--she held the jug while he took a long draught; then she brought a
coal in the tongs and held it while he lit his pipe from it; then she
sat down by him. For several moments he puffed, and then at last he
turned his head and looked at Princess Osra; she drooped her long
lashes and cast down her eyes; next she lifted her eyes and glanced for
an instant at the miller; and, finally, she dropped her eyes again and
murmured shyly: "What is it, sir? Why do you look at me?"

"You seem to be a handy wench," observed the miller. "The pie was
steaming hot and yet not burnt, the beer was well frothed but not
shaken nor thickened, and the pipe draws well. Where does your father
dwell?"

"He is dead, sir," said Princess Osra very demurely.

"And your mother?" pursued the miller.

"She also is dead."

"There is small harm in that," said the miller thoughtfully; and Osra
turned away her he