Then Ingrid began again to tell her story. But she had not got very far before she was interrupted. Her ladyship did exactly the same as Miss Stafva had done. She rose, pushed the handkerchief back from Ingrid's forehead and looked into her eyes. 'Yes,' her ladyship said to herself, 'that I can understand. I can understand that he must obey those eyes.' For the first time in her life Ingrid was praised for her courage. Her ladyship thought she had been very brave to place herself in the hands of a crazy fellow. She _was_ afraid, she said, but she was still more afraid of people seeing her in that state. And he did no harm; he was almost quite right, and then he was so good. Her ladyship wanted to know his name, but Ingrid did not know it. She had never heard of any other name but the Goat. Her ladyship asked several times how he managed when he came to do business. Had she not laughed at him, and did she not think that he looked terrible--the Goat? It sounded so strange when her ladyship said 'the Goat.' There was so much bitterness in her voice when she said it, and yet she said it over and over again. No; Ingrid did not think so, and she never laughed at unfortunate people. The old lady looked more gentle than her words sounded. 'It appears you know how to manage mad people, my child,' she said. 'That is a great gift. Most people are afraid of such poor creatures.' She listened to all Ingrid had to say, and sat meditating. 'As you have not any home, my child,' she said, 'will you not stay here with me? You see, I am an old woman living here by myself, and you can keep me company, and I shall take care that you have everything you want. What do you say to it, my child? There will come a time, I suppose,' continued her ladyship, 'when we shall have to inform your parents that you are still living; but for the present everything shall remain as it is, so that you can have time to rest both body and mind. And you shall call me "Aunt"; but what shall I call you?' 'Ingrid--Ingrid Berg.' 'Ingrid,' said her ladyship thoughtfully. 'I would rather have called you something else. As soon as you entered the room with those star-like eyes, I thought you ought to be called Mignon.' When it dawned upon the young girl that here she would really find a home, she felt more sure than ever that she had been brought here in some supernatural manner, and she whispered her thanks to her invisible protector before she thanked her ladyship, Miss Stafva, and Anna Stina. * * * * * Ingrid slept in a four-poster, on luxurious featherbeds three feet high, and had hem-stitched sheets, and silken quilts embroidered with Swedish crowns and French lilies. The bed was so broad that she could lie as she liked either way, and so high that she must mount two steps to get into it. At the top sat a Cupid holding the brightly-coloured hangings, and on the posts sat other Cupids, which held them up in festoons.