"Pardon me for presuming to believe that my
little invalid could be as interesting to you as
he is to me."
"Mr. Strand," stammered the girl, while the
invisible tears came near choking her voice.
"Mr. Strand--I didn't mean--really--"
She knew that if she said another word she
should burst into tears. With a violent effort,
she gathered up her wrapper, which somehow
had got unbuttoned at the neck, and, with
heedlessly hurrying steps, darted away toward the
house.
Strand stood looking after her, quite unmindful
of his feathered patient, which flew chirping
about him in the grass. Two hours later Arnfinn
found him sitting under the birches with
his hands clasped over the top of his head, and
his surgical instruments scattered on the ground
around him.
"Corpo di Baccho," exclaimed the student,
stooping to pick up the precious tools; "have
you been amputating your own head, or is it I
who am dreaming?"
"Ah," murmured Strand, lifting a large,
strange gaze upon his friend, "is it you?"
"Who else should it be? I come to call you
to breakfast."
IV.
"I wonder what is up between Strand and
Augusta?" said Arnfinn to his cousin Inga. The
questioner was lying in the grass at her feet,
resting his chin on his palms, and gazing with
roguishly tender eyes up into her fresh, blooming
face; but Inga, who was reading aloud from
"David Copperfield," and was deep in the
matrimonial tribulations of that noble hero, only
said "hush," and continued reading.
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