Whilst these arrangements were being made down-stairs the twins were busy sewing in their garret-room.  Lina was seated at one window, and Mina at the other; they never looked up from their work, and never spoke to each other as in the old days at Mrs. Behrens’ sewing-class.  They worked away as busily as if the world had been torn in two, and they had to sew up the rent with their needles and thread, while their serious faces and deep sighs showed that they were fully aware of the gravity of their employment.  It was strange that their mother had not told Braesig how sadly pale they had grown.  The change must have been very gradual for her not to have noticed it.  But so it was.  The two apple-cheeked maidens looked as if they had been growing on the north-side of the tree of life, where no sunbeams could ever come to brighten their existence, and tinge their cheeks with healthful color.  They could no longer be likened to two apples growing on one stalk.  At last Lina’s work fell on her lap, she could go on sewing no more, her eyes were so full of tears, and then large drops began to roll slowly down her pale cheeks; Mina took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes, for her tears were falling upon her work, and so the two little sisters sat weeping each in her own window, as if all her happiness were gone past recall.

Suddenly Mina jumped up, and ran out of the room as if she must go out into the fresh air, but she stopped short on the landing, for she remembered that her mother might see her and ask her what was the matter, so she remained outside the door crying silently.  And then Lina started up to go and comfort Mina; but she suddenly remembered that she did not know what to say to her, so she remained standing within the room beside the door, crying also.  It often happens that a thin wall of separation rises between two loving hearts, and while each would give anything to get back to the other, neither will be the first to turn the handle—­for in every such partition wall there is 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,