d at once with the peculiar saddler odor which
attended Skarlie: Magnhild was about to open the window, but thinking
better of it stepped back again.

"Where is your lodger?"

"He is across the street."

"Are there lodgers there, too?"

"Yes, a Fru Bang with her daughter."

"So they are the people you associate with?"

"Yes!"

He rose, took off his coat, and also laid aside his vest and cravat.
Then he filled his cutty with tobacco, lighted it, and sat down again,
this time with an elbow resting on one arm of the chair and smoking.
With a roguish smile he contemplated his other half.

"And so you are going to be a lady, Magnhild?"

She did not answer.

"Aye!--Well, I suppose I shall have to begin to make a gentleman of
myself."

She turned toward him with an amused countenance. His chest, thickly
covered with dark red hair, was bare, for his shirt was open; his face
was sunburned, his bald head white.

"The deuce! how you stare at me! I am not nearly as good-looking as your
lodger, I can well believe. Hey?"

"Will you have something to eat?" asked she.

"I dined on the steamer."

"But to drink?"

She went out after a bottle of beer, and placed it with a glass on the
table beside him. He poured out the beer and drank, looking across the
street as he did so.

"That's a deuce of a woman! Is _that_ the lady?"

Magnhild grew fiery red; for she too saw Fru Bang standing at the
window, staring at the half-disrobed Skarlie.

She fled into her chamber, thence into the garden, and there seated
herself.

She had only been there a few minutes when she heard first the chamber,
then the kitchen door open, and finally the garden door was opened by
her husband.

"Magnhild!" he called. "Yes, there she is."

Little Magda's light curly head was now thrust out, and turned round on
every side until Magnhild was seen, and then the child came slowly
toward her. Skarlie had gone back into the house.

"I was sent to ask if you were not coming over to take dinner with us."

"Give greetings and thanks; I cannot come--now."

The child bestowed on her a mute look of inquiry, then asked: "Why can
you not? Is it because that man has come?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

It was in Magnhild's mind to say, "He is my ----"; but it would not
cross her lips; and so without speaking she turned to conceal her
emotion from the child. The little one stood silently waiting for some
time; finally she asked,--

"Why are you cryin