ordinary relations between mistress and servant never having been properly established in this case. For one thing, they had been left to depend on each other's society during many a long evening in foreign towns, when Mr. Lind was away on his own business. For another, Natalie Lind had, somehow or other, and quite unaided, arrived at the daring conclusion that servants were human beings; and she had been taught to regard human beings as her brothers and sisters, some more fortunate than others, no doubt, but the least fortunate having the greatest claim on her.
"Fraulein," said the little Saxon maid, "it was I myself who took in the beautiful flowers that came for you this morning."
"Yes?"
"Yes, indeed; and I thought it was very strange for a lady to be out so early in the morning."
"A lady!" said Natalie Lind, with a quick surprise. "Not dressed all in black?"
"Yes, indeed, she was dressed all in black."
The girl was silent for a second or two. Then she said, with a smile,
"It is not right for my father to send me a black messenger on my birthday—it is not a good omen. And it was the same last year when we were in Paris; the concierge told me. Birthday gifts should come with a white fairy, you know, Anneli—all silver and bells."
"Fraulein," said the little German girl, gravely, "I do not think the lady who came this morning would bring you any ill fortune, for she spoke with such gentleness when she asked about you."
"When she asked about me? What was she like, then, this black messenger?"