"It won't be for long." And Holm sat comforting her as well as he could, until at last she went out of her own accord to lay the table for supper—a thing she had not troubled to do for a long time.
"Aha," thought Holm, "things are looking up a bit."
It was not a particularly cheerful meal, however, and William went off to his own room as soon as it was over.
A few days later a bundle of newspapers arrived by post from Copenhagen. William took the parcel with a trembling hand, and hurried off to his room to read them.
Not a word about "Rebecca and the Camels," beyond the dealer's advertisement of the exhibition. Ah, yes, here was something at last. And he read through the following, from one of the morning papers:
"Norwegian Camels"
"A decidedly humorous work of art has been on exhibition here the last few days.
"We have rarely seen visitors to the gallery so amused as were the groups that gathered before the large-sized canvas indicated as representing 'Rebecca and the Camels.'
"The young lady with the water-jug appears to be suffering from a pronounced gumboil, and is evidently utterly bored with her task of acting as barmaid to the camels; which latter, be it stated, are certainly but distantly related, if at all, to the honourable family of that name as represented in our Zoological Gardens.
"Indeed, we have it on good authority that a formal protest will shortly be lodged by the family in question against the unrightful adoption of a distinguished name by these monstrosities; the dromedaries, too, albeit less directly concerned, are anxious to disclaim any relationship.