e picture of dismay. This was a new turn to
the course of events, and one, more over, that he had never once
contemplated. Britta watched him amusedly.

"Will you leave any message for them when they return?" she asked.

"No," said the minister dubiously. "Yet, stay; yes! I will! Tell the
Froeken that I have found something which belongs to her, and that when
she wishes to have it, I will myself bring it."

Britta looked cross. "If it is hers you have no business to keep it,"
she said brusquely. "Why not leave it,--whatever it is,--with me?"

Mr. Dyceworthy regarded her with a bland and lofty air.

"I trust no concerns of mine or hers to the keeping of a paid domestic,"
he said. "A domestic, moreover, who deserts the ways of her own
people,--who hath dealings with the dwellers in darkness,--who even
bringeth herself to forget much of her own native tongue, and who
devoteth herself to--"

What he would have said was uncertain, as at that moment he was nearly
thrown down by a something that slipped agilely between his legs,
pinching each fat calf as it passed--a something that looked like a
ball, but proved to be a human creature--no other than the crazy Sigurd,
who, after accomplishing his uncouth gambol successfully, stood up,
shaking back his streaming fair locks and laughing wildly.

"Ha, ha!" he exclaimed. "That was good; that was clever! If I had upset
you now, you would have said your prayers backward! What are you here
for? This is no place for you! They are all gone out of it. _She_ has
gone--all the world is empty! There is nothing any where but air, air,
air!--no birds, no flowers, no trees, no sunshine! All gone with her on
the sparkling, singing water!" and he swung his arms round violently,
and snapped his fingers in the minister's face. "What an ugly man your
are!" he exclaimed with refreshing candor. "I think you are uglier than
I am! You are straight,--but you are like a load of peat--heavy and
barren and fit to burn. Now, I--I am the crooked bough of a tree, but I
have bright leaves where a bird hides and sings all day! You--you have
no song, no foliage; only ugly and barren and fit to burn!" He laughed
heartily, and, catching sight of Britta, where she stood in the doorway
entirely unconcerned at his eccentric behavior, he went up to her and
took hold of the corner of her apron. "Take me in, Britta dear--pretty
Britta!" he said coaxingly. "Sigurd is hungry! Britta, sweet little
Britta,--come and