her. Did you not suspect when you saw me that I was the kind old gentleman who had helped you?"
"I was not sure," said Jenny feebly, her face turning purple. "I did not think you recognized me." She tried to smile, but she was painfully conscious of her blushing and unsteady voice.
"It was an adventure, indeed," said Mrs. Gram. "A most peculiar coincidence."
"Have I said something wrong again?" asked Aagot when they went into the drawing-room after supper. Mr. Gram had retired to his study and Mrs. Gram had gone into the kitchen. "It is detestable in this house. You never know when there's going to be an explosion. Please explain. I don't understand anything."
"Mind your own business," said Helge angrily.
"All right, all right—don't bite me! Is Aunt Rebecca jealous of Miss Winge now?"
"You are the most tactless woman.…"
"After your mother, yes. Uncle Gert told me so one day." She laughed. "Have you ever heard anything so absurd! Jealous of Miss Winge." She looked inquisitively at the two others.
"You need not bother about things that only concern us, Aagot," said Helge curtly.
"Indeed? I only thought—but never mind; it does not matter."
"No; it does not in the least."
Mrs. Gram came in and lit the lamp. Jenny looked almost scared at her angry face. She stood a moment, staring with hard, glittering eyes, then she bent down and picked up Jenny's scissors, which had fallen on the floor.
"It looks as if it were a speciality of yours to drop things. You should not let things slip through your fingers, Miss Winge. Helge is not as gallant as his father, it seems." She
