"Did you see about those two who committed suicide together at Copenhagen?" asked Cecilie.
"Yes, she had." Fröken Monrad thought that it was horrible.
"Why?"
"Why the man was married!"
"True enough," answered Ella, "but they loved each other." Her eyes glowed; Cecilie lowered hers and blushed. Ella took her hand and pressed it. "I tumbled into a love-story there," she thought, and flew, rather than walked, up to the villas, where most of her pupils lived. On a roof she saw two starlings; the first that year. The thaw of a few days back had deceived them. Not that the starlings were dispirited. No, they loved! "Mamma, mamma," she seemed to hear at the same moment. It was certainly her boys; she had thought of them when she saw the starlings. She was so occupied with this that she walked right across to the side of the road and trod on a piece of board, which tilted up and nearly threw her down; but under the board Spring reigned. They had come with the thaw, they were certainly dandelions! However ugly they may be in the summer, the first ones are always welcome. She stooped down and gathered the flowers; she put them with the roses. The dandelions looked very shabby there, but they were the first this year, and found to-day!
After this she was absolutely boisterous. She skipped down the hills when her errand was finished. She greeted friends and mere acquaintance alike, and when she again saw Cecilie she put down the flowers, made a snowball, and threw it at her back.
When she got home she wrapped the children well up and put them into the sledge with Tea. "Mamma, mamma!" they shouted and pointed up towards the hotel. There stood Aksel Aarö. He bowed to her.
Soon afterwards he came across. "You are quite alone," he said as he entered.
"Yes." She was arranging the flowers and did not look up for she was trembling.
"Is it a birthday to-day?" he asked.