By Margaret Manning.
''(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.)
From the, firstrmoment of his
opening the door Jan Olesen felt
a1 presentiment of disaster. There
was something in the atmosphere
of the boarding house, with its
stuffy hall, its .gilt mirrors, its
"I'm to be sent away," she said.
glaring plush ornamentation, that'
sickened him, so that when the
little maid came forward and
f& asked whom he wished to see he
could hardly utter Mina's name,
Jan Olesen, fresh from the west,
where he had established himself
as prosperous farmer within
three years after his arrival from
Sweden, a penniless youth, look
ed in surprise at the little ser
vant's troubled face.
"You are from my country?"
he asked in his native tongue,
and at the sound of the words the
little fair-haired maid-of-all-work
broke down and cried.
"I I haven't heard the old
speech for so long," she said, and
then began smiling through her
tears as the sun smiles out of a
blue sky. And the twinkling eyes
that she turned upon him were
very blue, and her smile as sunny
as a Swedish girl's smile can be.
Jan Olesen looked at her in
"Do they treat you well here,
child?" he asked."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Some of the boarders do," she
answered. "Theatrical folks are
mostly kind. But Miss Dalrymple
she's a terror. She's leading
lady in the tRed Slipper' chorus,
you know and, say," she added,
breaking into the easily acquired
slang of America, "what do you
think? She's Swedish, too, for all
her American airs and English
Olesen clutched at the wall to
save himself from falling. Before
his eyes a mist was swimmming.
His mind went back to the day
when he, renting a cheap hall bed
room almost in the next city
block, had met Mina Jensen. She
was just such a little maid as this,
newly arrived from the old coun
try. He remembered her shy
smile, her engaging frankness.
And they; had become engagedt
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