a door with a handle
on each side of it--and so they remain apart in spite of their longing
to be reconciled.

But fortunately the twins were not so selfishly proud as to allow this
state of matters to go on for ever. Mina opened the door, and said: "Why
are you crying, Lina?" and Lina immediately stretched out both hands to
her sister, and said: "Oh, Mina, why are you crying?" Then they fell
upon each other's necks and cried again, and the color returned to their
cheeks as if a sunbeam had kissed them, and they clung to each other as
if they were once more growing on the same stalk. "Mina, I will let you
have him. You must be happy," said Lina. "No, Lina," said Mina, "he
likes you most, and you are much better than I am." "No, Mina. I've
quite made up my mind. Uncle Kurz is coming this afternoon, and I'll ask
father and mother to let me go home with him, for I couldn't remain here
and see it all just yet." "Do so, Lina, for then you'll be with his
parents, and when you both come back, I'll ask Godfrey to get his father
to look out for a situation for me as governess in some town far, far
from home, for I couldn't stay here either." "Mina!" cried Lina, holding
her sister from her at arm's length, and looking at her in amazement,
"with _his_ parents? With whose parents?" "Why--Rudolph's." "You meant
Rudolph?" "Yes, why who did you mean?" "I? Oh, I meant Godfrey." "No,
did you really?" exclaimed Mina, throwing her arms round Lina's neck,
"but is it possible? How is it possible? We don't mean the same after
all then!" "Ah!" said Lina who was the most sensible of the two, "what a
great deal of unnecessary pain we have given each other!" "Oh, how happy
I am," cried Mina, who was the least sensible, as she danced about the
room. "All will be well now." "Yes, Mina," said Lina the sensible,
joining in the dance. "Everything will go on happily now." Then silly
little Mina threw herself into her sister's arms again--she was so
happy.

If people would only turn the handle of the door that divides them from
their friends while there is yet time, all would go well with them, even
though it might not bring such intense joy as it did to the two girls in
the little garret-room.

The sisters cried one moment and laughed the next; then they danced
round the room, and after that they sat on each other's knees, and told
how it all happened, and sorrowed over their own stupidity, which had
prevented them seeing the true state of the cas