It was Jörgen Thiis! Mary promptly lowered her head again; then the joy of revenge took possession of her, and she mounted quickly, determinedly. Jörgen saw her, jumped up, looking agitated and ashamed, pulled off his cap, put it on again, seemed not to know where to look or to turn. Mary approached slowly, thoroughly enjoying his embarrassment. While still some distance off she called: "So this is your idea of sport! Are you shooting our hens to-day?" Then, as she came nearer: "You have no dog with you? No, of course not; you can shoot hens without a dog. Or perhaps you have none?" "Yes; but I am not shooting to-day. I have finished." This quiet, inoffensive answer, which he gave without daring to look at her, produced a revulsion of feeling in Mary. No, she would not be unkind to him! She had heard enough of his uncle's tyranny. The crows were clamouring louder than ever. "Listen! They are condemning some poor wretch! I wonder you don't go and help him." "Indeed I ought to!" cried Jörgen, happy to escape. He picked up his gun and ran, she following, up a short ascent and then along a path on the level. Upon and around two old trees the grey administrators of justice were raving; there were hundreds of them. But the moment they saw a man with a gun, they scattered, cawing, in every direction. Their task was accomplished. Between two large trees lay an unusually large crow, featherless and bleeding, in its death struggle. Jörgen was going to take hold of it. "No, don't touch it!" called Mary, and turned away. She went straight down again as she had come. Hearing Jörgen follow, she stopped. "You will come with me, won't you, and dine?" He thanked her. They walked on together silently until they came to where he had been lying. Then he hastily asked: "How are things going at home?" She smiled. "Thank you, really well, considering everything." The smoke from the chimney curled into the air. The roofs with their glazed blue tiles looked affluently comfortable. The large gardens on both sides with their gravel walks lay like striped wings outstretched from the houses. The whole had an air of life, as if it might rise into the air at any moment. "Had you been lying long here?" Mary asked unmercifully; she regarded Jörgen's mood as a species of possession. He did not answer. She set off on the last, very steep part of the descent. "Shall I help you?" "No, thank you; I have come down here oftener than you." It was a silent repast. Jörgen always ate slowly, but never had he eaten so slowly as to-day. Mary despatched each course quickly, and then sat and watched him, making an occasional remark, which was politely answered. His eyes, which generally swept over her like waves, ready to draw her in, had difficulty to-day in rising higher than the plate before them. Stopping suddenly, he said: "Are you not well?" "Yes, thank you; but I have had enough."