onately at Mary. "But your father, my poor child!"

"Father is much better now," she answered evasively. Uncle Klaus looked
searchingly at her. "But he can never...." He stopped; he was not
capable of putting his thought into words; neither was Mary. They sat
silent.

When they began to speak again, it was of the unusually bad times. It
seemed as if there were to be no end to them. Investments were yielding
no interest, the shipping trade was in a bad way, there were no new
undertakings, money was not forthcoming. Whilst they were talking, Uncle
Klaus looked several times at Joergen as if he would put more questions
but for his presence. Mary understood, and made a sign to Joergen, who
rose and asked permission to go, as he had an appointment with some
friends in town. It was, thus, tacitly agreed upon between Mary and him
that she should have a private interview with Uncle Klaus. But what was
it Uncle Klaus wished to speak to her about? She was most curious.

As soon as the door closed behind Joergen, the old man, with an anxious
look, began: "Is it true, my poor child, that your father has had great
losses in America?"

"He has lost everything," Mary replied.

Klaus jumped up, pale with the shock.

"Lost everything?"

He stared at her, open-mouthed and turning purple. Then exclaiming:
"Good Lord! This is a simple enough explanation of the shock!" began to
march up and down the room as if no one else were present. The wide
trousers twisted themselves round his legs; he waved his long arms.

"He has always been a confiding simpleton! an absolute fool! Fancy
having a fortune like that invested in another man's business and never
looking after it! What a damned--" Here he stopped suddenly and asked in
astonishment: "What do you mean to marry upon--?"

Mary had felt herself mortally insulted long before this question came.
To behave thus in her presence--to speak thus of her father in her
hearing! Nevertheless she answered archly and with her sweetest smile:
"On our expectations from you, Uncle Klaus!"

Klaus's astonishment was beyond all measure. She tried to moderate it
before it found vent; she joked--said in English that she felt
dreadfully sorry for him, as she knew what a poor man he was! But he
paid no more attention to her than a bear to the twitter of birds.

Out it came at last. "It is like that scoundrel Joergen to speculate upon
me!" Marching up and down again, faster than before, he continued: "Ha,