inwick is a poor widow's son, and
an only son, and it seems just a little--horrid."

"I never thought of it that way," Yaspard said, looking very
crestfallen; "but it can't be helped now, any way. However, I'll make
it up to him afterwards. He shan't lose by this, I tell you."

Signy twined her arms round his neck, and whispered softly, "Brodhor,
is it quite--quite right, do you think, to do what Uncle Brues would be
very angry about?"

"I don't think it's _wrong_ any way," the lad replied. "I haven't
disobeyed uncle, and I haven't told any stories. I've only---- There,
Signy; if it seems a mean or deceitful thing I've done, I'll set that
right in a jiffy. I'll just go and tell Uncle Brues about it myself."

"How brave you are, brodhor! How straight you go at things, to be
sure!"

"And how round the corner and round my neck you go with things,
Mootie-ting!" laughed he; then more gravely asked, "Where is uncle, do
you know?"

"He is out, as usual, after specimens: he has been out a long time."

"Oh, well, I'll tell him when he comes."

[1] "Had," the den of a wild animal.

CHAPTER VI.

"NOW EACH GOES HIS WAY."

Some hours later Mr. Adiesen appeared at his own door laden with blocks
of serpentine, fragments of lichen, moss, seaweed, and shells. Yaspard
followed him into a little room which was doing duty as a study until
the Den was restored to order, and as the scientist put down his
treasures the lad said--in a trembling voice, be it confessed--"I want
to tell you about something, uncle; something I've been doing."

"Well, go on," said Mr. Adiesen, not looking up, and in a very grim
tone.

"I--I--there used to be--I've heard you say--that our ancestors were
Vikings; and I--I thought I'd be--a Viking."

Yaspard got so far, and stuck. It was hard to go on telling of his
romantic fancy and wild escapade with that grave face before him.

"You thought you'd be a Viking," Mr. Adiesen repeated calmly, then
paused, and asked in ice-cold tones, "Well, what else do you wish to
say?"

"I think it right to tell you--I feel I ought--even about what--I
mean--in fun;--but, uncle," and again poor Yaspard came to a deadlock,
and might never have made a satisfactory confession if help had not
come to him in the form of Signy.

She had been hovering about the door in much trepidation, and, fearing
that her brother's courage might fail him, she stole to his side, put
her hand in his, looked fearles