ut it on again, seemed not to know where to look or
to turn. Mary approached slowly, thoroughly enjoying his embarrassment.
While still some distance off she called: "So this is your idea of
sport! Are you shooting our hens to-day?" Then, as she came nearer: "You
have no dog with you? No, of course not; you can shoot hens without a
dog. Or perhaps you have none?"

"Yes; but I am not shooting to-day. I have finished."

This quiet, inoffensive answer, which he gave without daring to look at
her, produced a revulsion of feeling in Mary. No, she would not be
unkind to him! She had heard enough of his uncle's tyranny.

The crows were clamouring louder than ever.

"Listen! They are condemning some poor wretch! I wonder you don't go and
help him."

"Indeed I ought to!" cried Joergen, happy to escape. He picked up his gun
and ran, she following, up a short ascent and then along a path on the
level. Upon and around two old trees the grey administrators of justice
were raving; there were hundreds of them. But the moment they saw a man
with a gun, they scattered, cawing, in every direction. Their task was
accomplished.

Between two large trees lay an unusually large crow, featherless and
bleeding, in its death struggle. Joergen was going to take hold of it.

"No, don't touch it!" called Mary, and turned away.

She went straight down again as she had come. Hearing Joergen follow, she
stopped.

"You will come with me, won't you, and dine?"

He thanked her. They walked on together silently until they came to
where he had been lying. Then he hastily asked:

"How are things going at home?"

She smiled. "Thank you, really well, considering everything."

The smoke from the chimney curled into the air. The roofs with their
glazed blue tiles looked affluently comfortable. The large gardens on
both sides with their gravel walks lay like striped wings outstretched
from the houses. The whole had an air of life, as if it might rise into
the air at any moment.

"Had you been lying long here?" Mary asked unmercifully; she regarded
Joergen's mood as a species of possession.

He did not answer. She set off on the last, very steep part of the
descent.

"Shall I help you?"

"No, thank you; I have come down here oftener than you."

It was a silent repast. Joergen always ate slowly, but never had he
eaten so slowly as to-day. Mary despatched each course quickly, and then
sat and watched him, making an occasional remark, which wa