"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. Arnfinn, after a minute's silence, repeated his remark, whereupon his fair cousin wrenched his cane out of his hand, and held it threateningly over his head.
"Will you be a good boy and listen?" she exclaimed, playfully emphasizing each word with a light rap on his curly pate.
"Ouch! that hurts," cried Arnfinn, and dodged.
"It was meant to hurt," replied Inga, with mock severity, and returned to "Copperfield."Presently the seed of a corn-flower struck the tip of her nose, and again the cane was lifted; but Dora's housekeeping experiences were tooabsorbingly interesting, and the blue eyes could not resist their fascination. "Cousin Inga," said Arnfinn, and this time with as near an approach to earnestness as he was capable of at that moment, "I do believe that Strandis in love with Augusta."
Inga dropped the book, and sent him what was meant to be a glance of severe rebuke, and then said, in her own amusingly emphatic way:
"I do wish you wouldn't joke with such things, Arnfinn.""Joke! Indeed I am not joking. I wish to heaven that I were. What a pity it is that she has taken such a dislike to him!""Dislike! Oh, you are a profound philosopher, you are! You think that because she avoids--"Here Inga abruptly clapped her hand over her mouth, and, with sudden change of voice and expression, said:
"I am as silent as the grave."
"Yes, you are wonderfully discreet," cried Arnfinn, laughing, while the girl bit her under lip with an air of penitence and mortification which, in any other bosom than a cousin's would have aroused compassion.
"Aha! So steht's!" he broke forth, with another burst of merriment; then, softened by the sight of a tear that was slowly gathering beneath her eyelashes, he checked his laughter, crept up to her side, and in a half childishly coaxing, half caressing tone, he whispered:
"Dear little cousin, indeed I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You are not angry with me, are you? And if you will only promise me not to tell, I have something here which I should like to show you."He well knew that there was nothing which would sooner soothe Inga's wrath than confiding a secret to her; and while he was a boy, he had, in cases of sore need, invented secrets lest his life should be made miserable by the sense that she was displeased with him. In this instance her anger was not strong enough to resist the anticipation of a secret, probably relating to that little drama which had, during the last weeks, been in progress under her very eyes. With a resolute movement, she brushed her tears away, bent eagerly forward, and, in the next moment, her face was all expectancy and animation.
Arnfinn pulled a thick black note-book from his breast pocket, openedit in his lap, and read:
