scrutinizing look. This look, which was without the slightest touch of severity, indicating merely a lively degree of interest, was further emphasized by three small perpendicular wrinkles, which deepened and again relaxed according to the varying intensity of observation she bestowed upon the object which for the time engaged her attention.     

       “Your name, if you please?” said Mrs. Van Kirk, having for awhile measured her visitor with a glance of mild scrutiny.     

       “Halfdan Bjerk.”      

       “Half-dan B——, how do you spell that?”      

       “B-j-e-r-k.”      

       “B-jerk. Well, but I mean, what is your name in English?”      

       Halfdan looked blank, and blushed to his ears.     

       “I wish to know,” continued the lady energetically, evidently anxious to help him out, “what your name would mean in plain English. Bjerk, it certainly must mean something.”      

       “Bjerk is a tree—a birch-tree.”      

       “Very well, Birch,—that is a very respectable name. And your first name? What did you say that was?     

       “H-a-l-f-d-a-n.”      

       “Half Dan. Why not a whole Dan and be done with it? Dan Birch, or rather Daniel Birch. Indeed, that sounds quite Christian.”      

       “As you please, madam,” faltered the victim, looking very unhappy.     

       “You will pardon my straightforwardness, won’t you? B-jerk. I could never pronounce that, you know.”      

       “Whatever may be agreeable to you, madam, will be sure to please me.”      

       “That is very well said. And you will find that it always pays to try to please me. And you wish to teach music? If you have no objection I will call my oldest daughter. She is an excellent judge of music, and if your playing meets with her approval, I will engage you, as my husband suggests, not to teach Edith, you understand, but my youngest child, Clara.”     

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