Words are inadequate to describe Gottlieb’s pride and elation when this was accomplished, and he was none the less rejoiced when he discovered how readily Nanna comprehended him when he read to her the writings of his favorite bards.

On her part Nanna replied to her kind teacher, by confiding to him all of her little plans, among the first of which she mentioned the school-room, the cat and the singing bird which he was to have, and Gottlieb gave her his advice concerning the arrangement of the benches in the school-room; the position which the black-board should occupy, and what little presents she should make her pupils as rewards of merit.  He concluded by promising to send her every year a letter of advice; possibly he might come himself, occasionally, who knew?

“I am sure of that,” said Nanna, one afternoon in reply to Gottlieb, as he thus expressed himself, “for when you are married you will be obliged to visit Almvik to show your rich wife to your uncle and aunt.”

“Perhaps,” replied Gottlieb, with a laugh, “that journey will not be necessary, for if my aunt could only have her own way, she would certainly find me a wife in this neighborhood.”

“Who could you possibly marry in this neighborhood?” inquired Nanna curiously.

“Ah!  Mademoiselle Nanna,” replied Gottlieb, “I easily perceive that you are not in the least danger, for you can hear that your friend Gottlieb is to be married and betray not the slightest emotion.”

“Why should I be moved, Mr. Gottlieb?  It will have to occur sometime,” said Nanna innocently.

“And yet—­”

“What yet!”

“You are a good girl.”

“Ah, but don’t you remember the agreement?”

“Yes, and I only intended to remark that it would not be difficult for you to adhere to it.”

“Does that displease you, sir?” inquired Nanna in a tone of displeasure which was the more pertinent as it was foreign to her usual manner.

“Certainly not, Miss Nanna, on the contrary I am delighted that you should follow my advice so faithfully—­either of the young ladies at the parsonage are suitable.”

“Did you refer to one of those?” inquired Nanna, her countenance assuming a deathly paleness, “O they are so beautiful.”

“Yes, perfectly angelic—­especially Miss—­Miss—­what is her name?”

“You probably allude to Miss Charlotte.”

“Right, Miss Charlotte, whose hair is so black and beautiful.”

“O, no, that is Sophia!” exclaimed Nanna.

“Well then, Miss Sophia, I prefer her.”

“But why is it that you changed their names?” inquired Nanna.

“Why, you heard that I did not confound her black hair with her sister’s brown ringlets.”

“How strange!  Charlotte’s hair is quite light!”

“Of what earthly difference is it,” replied Gottlieb, “whether Charlotte’s hair is brown or white, I think only of the roguish and pretty Miss Sophia.”