could be severe with her
was being late at meals. But for this severity, he would often have
dined without her; for Alma was full of absorbing hobbies, and when
anything interested her, food and sleep were to her matters of no
consequence. Now her brain was revolving a new scheme. Alma had been
for years in a Swiss boarding-school, and there, among many
accomplishments, had acquired a thorough knowledge of the English
language. She had been charmed with the accounts she had read of the
work of the English ladies among the cottagers on their large estates.
She had determined to "do just so" when she was fairly settled at home.
She would now begin at once with Nono. She felt she had a kind of
charge over him. Had not her own dear mother died in Italy, where his
mother came from? That baptism, too, she could never forget! He
should not grow up like a heathen in Sweden if she could prevent it.
She would have him up at "the big house" every day for a Scripture
lesson. She wanted to paint him too; how lovely he would be in a
picture! She must have the old man with him. How charming it would be
to sketch youth and age working in the garden together! She could pay
them for their time, and they would look up to her as a kind of
guardian angel. Alma flitted along, almost as if she had wings
already, as these pleasant thoughts floated through her mind.

The angel seemed suddenly to change to a fury as a shout arose from
behind a dark evergreen, and a nondescript-looking individual, ragged
and dirty, came out upon her, exclaiming,--

"I suppose I must not come near your highness, looking as I do!"

Streaked with mud on face and clothing, his feet bare, and his trousers
rolled up to his knees, her brother stood before her, his eyes gleaming
with delight in spite of her evident displeasure.

"I've got a basket of polywogs, and some delicious bugs, and a big
caterpillar that would make your mouth water if you were addicted to
vermicelli. See here!"

He moved as if he were about to open up his treasures for her
inspection.

"Do keep away, Frans!" exclaimed Alma, as she drew her befrilled and
beflounced skirt about her, as if to escape dangerous contagion.

At this moment she swept in at the gate that led to the house, and shut
it hastily behind her.

"I'm going in the back way, anyhow," said Frans, with a merry laugh.
"Your grace and my grace cannot well make our _entree_ together."

"The most troublesome boy