“Why, it is beginning to rain,” said Mr. Morgan. “I almost think we had better be turning back, Herr Falck. It has been a most enjoyable little walk; but if we can reach the hotel before it settles in for a wet evening, why, all the better.” “The rain is the great drawback to Bergen,” said Herr Falck. “At Christiania they have a saying that when you go to Bergen it rains three hundred and sixty-six days out of the year. But after all one becomes very much accustomed to it.” On the return walk the conversation was more general, and though Frithiof walked beside Blanche he said very little. His mind was full of the new idea which had just dawned upon him, and he heard her merry talk with Sigrid and Swanhild like a man in a dream. Before long, much to his discomfort, he saw in front of them the two English tourists, and though his mind was all in a tumult with this new perception of his love for Blanche, yet the longing to make up for her ill-judged remark, the desire to prove that he did not share in her prejudice, was powerful too. He fancied it was chiefly to avoid them that the Englishman turned toward the bank just as they passed to gather a flower which grew high above his head. “What can this be, Cecil?” he remarked. “Allow me, sir,” said Frithiof, observing that it was just out of the stranger’s reach. He was two or three inches taller, and, with an adroit spring, was able to bring down the flower in triumph. By this time the others were some little way in advance. He looked rather wistfully after Blanche, and fancied disapproval in her erect, trim little figure. “This is the Linnæa,” he explained. “You will find a great deal of it about. It was the flower, you know, which Linnæus chose to name after himself. Some say he showed his modesty in choosing so common and insignificant a plant, but it always seems to me that he showed his good taste. It is a beautiful flower.” Roy Boniface thanked him heartily for his help. “We were hoping to find the Linnæa,” he said, handing it to his sister, while he opened a specimen tin. “What delicate little bells!” she exclaimed. “I quite agree with you that Linnæus showed his good taste.” Frithiof would probably have passed on had he not, at that moment, recognized Cecil as the English girl whom he had first accosted on the steamer. “Pardon me for not knowing you before,” he said, raising his hat. “We met yesterday afternoon, did we not? I hope you have had a pleasant time at Bergen?” “Delightful, thank you. We think it the most charming town we ever saw.” “Barring the rain,” said Roy, “for which we have foolishly forgotten to reckon.” “Never be parted from your umbrella is a sound maxim for this part of the world,” said Frithiof, smiling. “Halloo! it is coming down in good earnest. I’m afraid you will get very wet,” he said, glancing at Cecil’s pretty gray traveling dress.