mits of his brother's musical
accomplishment, noticed that he was leaving the beaten track, and
beginning to wander among the keys; and presently he was horrified to
find that Hans was groping after that unhappy "Hope's clad in April
green." But fortunately he could not hit upon it, so he confined himself
to humming the song half aloud, while he threw in the three famous minor
chords.

"Now we're quite cool again," cried the fair one in light green,
hastily.

There was a general burst of laughter at her eagerness to get away, and
she was quite crimson when she said good-night.

Cousin Ola, who was standing near the hostess, also took his leave.
Cousin Hans, on the other hand, was detained by the Sheriff, who was
anxious to learn under what teachers he had studied music; and that took
time.

Thus it happened that Ola and the fair one in the light green passed out
into the passage at the same time. There the young folks were crowding
round the hat-pegs, some to find their own wraps, some to take down
other people's.

"I suppose it's no good trying to push our way forward," said the fair
one.

Ola's windpipe contracted in such a vexatious way that he only succeeded
in uttering a meaningless sound. They stood close to each other in
the crush, and Ola would gladly have given a finger to be able to say
something pleasant to her, or at least something rational; but he found
it quite impossible.

"Of course you've enjoyed the evening?" said she, in a friendly tone.

Cousin Ola thought of the pitiful part he had been playing all evening;
his unsociableness weighed so much upon his mind that he answered--the
very stupidest thing he could have answered, he thought, the moment the
words were out of his lips--"I'm so sorry that I can't sing."

"I suppose it's a family failing," answered the fair one, with a rapid
glance.

"N-n-no," said Ola, exceedingly put out, "my brother sings capitally."

"Do you think so?" she said, drily.

This was the most astounding thing that had ever happened to Ola: that
there could be more than one opinion about his brother's singing, and
that she, his "future wife," did not seem to admire it! And yet it was
not quite unpleasant to him to hear it.

Again there was a silence, which Ola sought in vain to break.

"Don't you care for dancing?" she asked.

"Not with every one," he blurted out.

She laughed: "No, no; but gentlemen have the right to choose."

Now Ola began to lose his foo