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 were lucky to escape a shower. Men want such a lot of looking after, you know," she said, turning to Miss Winge.

"You manage it very well," said Gram. His voice and manners were always painfully polite when he spoke to his wife.

"You are sitting in here too, I see," she said to Helge and Jenny.

"I have noticed that the study is the nicest room in every house," said Jenny. "It was in our house, when my father was alive. I suppose it is because they are made to work itin it [sic]."

"The kitchen ought in that case to be the very nicest room in every house," said Mrs. Gram. "Where do you think more work is done, Gert—in your room or mine?—for I suppose the kitchen is my study."

"Undoubtedly more useful work is done in your room."

"I believe, after all, that I must accept your kind offer of help, Miss Winge—it is getting late."

They were at table when the bell rang. It was Mrs. Gram's niece, Aagot Sand. Mrs. Gram introduced Jenny.

"Oh, you are the artist with whom Helge spent so much of his time in Rome. I guessed that much when I saw you in Stenersgaten one day in the spring. You were walking with Uncle Gert, and carried your painting things."

"You must be mistaken, Aagot," said Mrs. Gram. "When do you imagine you saw them?"

"The day before Intercession Day, as I was coming back from school."

"It is quite true," said Gram. "Miss Winge had dropped her paintbox in the street, and I helped her to pick the things up."

"A little adventure, I see, which you have not confessed to your wife," said Mrs. Gram, laughing. "I had no idea you knew each other before."

Gram laughed too: "Miss Winge did not recognize me. It was not very flattering to me—but I did not wish to remind