‘Who is this?’ said Rollo to Gyda.

‘It is Truedchen, of the Hollow.  What is wanting, my child?’ said Gyda.

‘Come seeking medicine for the mind or body?’ said Rollo.  But after a second glance he rose up, went to the girl and offered a chair.  She looked at him without seeming to know his meaning.

‘Speak Deutsch, Olaf,’ said Gyda; ’and ye’ll get better hearing.  She can’t speak yon.’

A few words in German made a change.  The wan face waked up a little and looked astonished at the speaker.  Rollo seated her; then poured out himself a cup of Gyda’s coffee, creamed and sugared it duly, and offered it to the girl with the observance he would have given to a lady.  Then he moved her chair nearer to the table, and supplied porridge and then peaches; talking and talking to her all the while.  The answers began to come at last; the girl’s colour changed with the coffee, and her eyes brightened with every spoonful of the cream and porridge; and at last came a smile—­what was it like?—­like the wintriest gleam of a cold sky upon a cold world.  Rollo got better than that, however, before he was done.

He had come back to Wych Hazel and left the girl to finish her supper in peace; when suddenly his attention was attracted by some question addressed by the latter to Gyda.  He looked up and himself answered.  The girl started from her seat with a degree of animation she had given no symptom of till then, said a few words very eagerly and hurriedly, and darted from the door like a sprite.

‘What now?’ said Hazel, looking after the girl.  ’What has Mr. Rollo done?’

’Cut short somebody’s supper, I’m afraid.  But she finished her porridge, didn’t she?  And has taken one peach with her!  Do they all look that, Gyda?’

Gyda answered that they were ‘very bad;’ she meant in their way of life and their thriving on it.

‘And how otherwise?’

There seemed to be not much to say ‘otherwise.’  They were very good to her, Gyda remarked.  Wych Hazel listened, but she risked no more questions.  The supper lingered a while longer; Gyda and Rollo talking of various things and drawing in Wych Hazel when they could; then Gyda fetched a book and opened it and laid before Rollo.  He left the table and came to Wych Hazel’s side.

‘Gyda always, when she can, has prayers with her visitors,’ he said, ’and she makes them read for her.  She, and I, would like it if you do the reading to-night.  Will you?’

How easily she started to-night!—­Hazel answered without looking up—­

‘She would rather have you.’

‘No, she wouldn’t.  Excuse me!  She asked me to ask you.’

The girl had not found her feet yet, nor got clear of her bewilderment.  And so, before she more than half knew what she was about she had taken the book and was reading—­absolutely reading aloud to those two!—­the ninety-first Psalm.  Aloud, it was; but only because the voice was so wonderfully clear and sweet-toned could they have heard a word.  As it was, neither listener lost one.