m in his
Norse innocence he took for mothers or aunts of the children, wheeling
baby-carriages which to Norse eyes seemed miracles of dainty ingenuity,
under the shady crowns of the elm-trees. He did not know how long he
had been sitting there, when a little bright-eyed girl with light kid
gloves, a small blue parasol and a blue polonaise, quite a lady of
fashion en miniature, stopped in front of him and stared at him in shy
wonder. He had always been fond of children, and often rejoiced in their
affectionate ways and confidential prattle, and now it suddenly touched
him with a warm sense of human fellowship to have this little daintily
befrilled and crisply starched beauty single him out for notice among
the hundreds who reclined in the arbors, or sauntered to and fro under
the great trees.

"What is your name, my little girl?" he asked, in a tone of friendly
interest.

"Clara," answered the child, hesitatingly; then, having by another look
assured herself of his harmlessness, she added: "How very funny you
speak!"

"Yes," he said, stooping down to take he tiny begloved hand. "I do not
speak as well as you do, yet; but I shall soon learn."

Clara looked puzzled.

"How old are you?" she asked, raising her parasol, and throwing back her
head with an air of superiority.

"I am twenty-four years old."

She began to count half aloud on her fingers: "One, two, three, four,"
but, before she reached twenty, she lost her patience.

"Twenty-four," she exclaimed, "that is a great deal. I am only seven,
and papa gave me a pony on my birthday. Have you got a pony?"

"No; I have nothing but what is in this valise, and you know I could not
very well get a pony into it."

Clara glanced curiously at the valise and laughed; then suddenly she
grew serious again, put her hand into her pocket and seemed to be
searching eagerly for something. Presently she hauled out a small
porcelain doll's head, then a red-painted block with letters on it, and
at last a penny.

"Do you want them?" she said, reaching him her treasures in both hands.
"You may have them all."

Before he had time to answer, a shrill, penetrating voice cried out:

"Why, gracious! child, what are you doing?"

And the nurse, who had been deeply absorbed in "The New York Ledger,"
came rushing up, snatched the child away, and retreated as hastily as
she had come.

Halfdan rose and wandered for hours aimlessly along the intertwining
roads and footpaths. He visi