holding her needle up toward the light to thread, she was sitting with her back to the sea, facing the back of the house. She cast a stray glance through the foilage along the row of dormer windows in the upper story, when it suddenly stopped at the next to the last one, dropped the next moment and was timidly raised again to the same spot. Then a hushed laughter shook her till the very tears were in her eyes, and she had to make the greatest exertions to keep from breaking right out loudly. And it was really no wonder she laughed; for up there in the open window stood a young man in shirt sleeves, and in the very important act, but very ludicrous attitude of shaving. A very small hand mirror he had hung upon the window-post, and so as to get the most advantageous view of himself in so small a glass he had to make some pretty comical grimaces, and Thorborg had him

en face. She laughed till it struck her how very improper it was in a young lady to sit and watch a man in the act of shaving; then she would turn sideways, and presently steal another glance askance in the same direction and laugh again in the keenest enjoyment of the situation, and wondered what he would say if he knew that a young lady was watching his manoeuvres with such interest.

But her mirth ended in a very abrupt and unlooked for way. While she sat gloating over the

comical spectacle and picturing to herself the delight of telling it to the girls, a window in the third story was thrown open, a pair of capstrings fluttered outside, and Mrs. Landsho's clear, loud voice sounded out over the lake, "Thorborg."

Thorborg was horror-struck. If she made herself visible now he would of course know that she had seen the whole performance, and how could she ever look him in the face in case they should meet, which was quite likely, living in the same house; they would in all probability meet on the stairs when coming and going in and out of the house. Her mother's voice sounded again; she knew she was there, and in a guilty, reluctant way she faltered, "I am coming, mother."

The young man had stopped, razor in hand, and looked enquiringly out over the gutter down in the garden, and seeing the young girl emerge from the greenhouse he blushed and drew hurriedly back. Thorborg hardly knew how she got across the garden up into the house, and she bit her lip with shame and vexation as she thought of how the situation had turned against her.

Mrs. Landsho had received lady callers, and Thorborg was wanted. to get the coffee-tray ready and bring it in as soon as possible.

And when she had finished her task, and placed the tray in front of her mother, Thorborg retired to the work-table by the window

and took up her work again, thinking over her little adventure, as she liked to call it, and wonered who that young man could be. Looking toward the coffeetable now and then, she saw the three bonnets and one white cap in very close proximity to each other, and noting the decided nods, the espairing shakes and the lowered voices, she came to the conclusion that a more than ordinary debased servant was on the programme. Presently the cups were pushed away, the bonnet strings thrown back, and reclining in their chairs the ladies gave expression to their their deep disgust in various effectual ways. 'I never could have believed you capable of so much credulity, Mrs. Brondum!" said the gas master's wife; but Mrs. Brondum meekly protested that she never would have done it had she been aware of what sort of a young man he was. Thorborg became interested at once. Mrs. Brondum was a widow, good-looking, and only forty years. Could it be that she had had an offer and accepted it? Of course she had accepted it. "He is very prepossessing of appearance, Mrs. Brondum assured them. course he was; they had no doubt about that, a regular wolf in lamb's clothing. The devil could assume any shape he had a mind to, and this one was of course the veritable old deceiver himself. Mrs. Brondum had the courage to shake her head. But then they all bore down on her

with bitter reproaches for being such a weak creature as to allow herself to be taken in by such a rogue, who had been sent here for the express purpose of ensnaring the hearts of young girls and widows. One of the ladies then happened to notice the interested face of Thorborg, and cleared her throat in a significant way. Mrs. Landsho understood, and sent Thorborg on an errand to the kitchen, where she stood meditating on what sort of a person this Mephistopheles could be who seemed to have beguiled poor Mrs. Brondum's unwary heart.

That very same evening at the tea table Emil, Thorborg's brother, abruptly asked:

"Thorborg, do you remember the Ibsen family who used to live neighbor to us in T street, years ago, the boy Arnold particularly?"

"I should think So. They became Mormons and left for the promised land; wonder if they ever got there? Shall I ever forget that ridiculous boy, how he tried to preach to us, father, mother and all; he even tackled the pastor, think of it! He'll surely attain the leadership of the whole gang before he leaves this world. They're never supposed to die, or how is it? what made you think of him?"

"He's come back."