She waited until she heard a door close below, and then, still laughing a little, but breathing rapidly, feeling sure of victory, yet with a fluttering at her heart, she went down the stairs, and sailed into the sitting-room.
Oscar was leaning on the marble stove, and Helga, sitting on a low seat, was warming her feet at the fire. They turned to Thora as she entered, and looked at her with wide eyes. There was a moment of chilling silence, and then Thora, breathing faster and faster, said:
"Well, what do you think of it?"
Helga began to laugh, first in a smothered titter, hut finally in an outright roar, whereupon Oscar, who had struggled not to smile, caught the contagion and joined her.
Thora's pitiful face fell, and she said, with a crack in her voice:
"But what are you laughing at, Oscar?"
"My dear, dear child!" said Oscar; and Helga, who was still laughing, said:
"A little milliner! It makes her look like a little milliner!"
"No, no, not that," said Oscar. "But it's not Thora. Thora is a sweet, simple Iceland maiden whose charm is her simplicity, whereas this----"
"I see," said Thora, and with her heart in her mouth she turned to go.