"I was sent to ask if you were not coming over to take dinner with us."
"Give greetings and thanks; I cannot come—now."
The child bestowed on her a mute look of inquiry, then asked: "Why can you not? Is it because that man has come?"
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
It was in Magnhild's mind to say, "He is my ——"; but it would not cross her lips; and so without speaking she turned to conceal her emotion from the child. The little one stood silently waiting for some time; finally she asked,—
"Why are you crying, Magnhild?"
This was said so sweetly: it chimed in with the memory of the whole bright world which was once more closed, that Magnhild clasped its little representative in her arms, and bowing over the curly head burst into tears. Finally, she whispered,—
"Do not question me any more, little Magda; but go home now, this way, through the garden gate, and tell mamma that I cannot come any more."
Magda obeyed, but she looked over her shoulder several times as she walked away.