And Nanna and her father were as much rejoiced at the glad tidings as was Magde herself.

A few days afterwards, Magde and her father were seated together in the parlor consulting about the future.

“The Lord thus distributes joys and sorrows.  One year ago our prospects were much different.”

“Have I forgotten that time?  No!  And if I should live a hundred years, I would never forget the day you were taken from us to prison, nor the day you were released by Mr. Gottlieb.  This year Ragnar must send him the balance still due him.”

“We can repay him the money; but we can never reward him for his kindness and love.  He has not returned to Almvik, and perhaps it is for the best, and as Nanna under any circumstance—­”

The old man was suddenly interrupted by a shrill blast from the outside, which blast was produced by some one blowing upon a blade of grass.

“Well, well,” exclaimed Magde glancing through the window, and then rushing to the door, “the old proverb is true, ‘talk of—­’”

“A certain gentleman and he is here,” interrupted Gottlieb, entering the door with his face beaming with his usual cheerfulness.  He presented one hand to Magde, and the other to old Mr. Lonner, who exclaimed with glistening eyes: 

“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Gottlieb.  Ragnar intended to write you to-day, and I just told Magde we are able to discharge one part of our debt, but the other can never be repaid.”

“Enough, enough, good father Lonner, I too was influenced by a selfish motive—­but pardon me, where is Nanna?”

“She has gone to fish with Ragnar and little Conrad,” said Magde, who had already manufactured an urn of coffee, “but they will soon return.”

“Aha! is Mate Lonner at home.  Then I can become acquainted with him.”

“Captain Lonner, next spring at least, Mr. Gottlieb,” said Magde, proudly.

“Crown Secretary, now, instead of Mr. Gottlieb, if you please, Mrs. Lonner.”

“So soon?”

“Yes, eight days ago I received the appointment; but my great fortune will come next spring, for then I hope to have a little house of my own.”

“Yes, and perhaps a housekeeper too,” added Magde.

“Possibly.”

At this reply Magde cast a secret glance towards her father, which he returned.  Gottlieb, however, changed the conversation, and commenced speaking of the death of poor Carl of which he had before been informed.  During the next half hour, Gottlieb evinced the utmost impatience.  He would walk to the window and gaze anxiously towards the lake, not observing that Magde and her father were exchanging significant glances and smiles behind his back.

At length he spied the boat, and he hastened down to the beach.  The skiff contained the brother and sister, and their little companion.