A HARDY NORSEMAN.
CHAPTER I.
“You say your things are all ready, Cecil? Then I’ll just go below and do up my Gladstone, and put it in your cabin. We shall be at Bergen before long, they say.”
The speaker was a young Englishman of three-or-four-and-twenty, and the sister addressed by him was still in the first flush of girlhood, having but a few days before celebrated her nineteenth birthday.
“Let me see to your bag, Roy,” she exclaimed. “It is a shame that you should miss this lovely bit of the fjord, and I shall do it in half the time.”