They all rushed into the dining-room and stood there in a group, convulsed with laughter, as the Consul followed them with the doll in the air like a flag. It was the blue doll which Tinka had undressed for the third time, and was going to put to bed just as the Consul came and everything was hurry-scurry. It must have slipped down and bashfully hidden itself under a skirt at the time the press was closed. Milla and Tora had discovered it at the same moment, and both placed themselves over it. The Consul sat down with the doll in his arms; then he laid it down in his table napkin, and after looking at it once or twice he put it on the table with a teacup under its head. Milla snatched it from him. "Do you really play with dolls?" No, indeed; they had come to consult together about Christmas presents. Milla gave this answer. "Why should you hide such a harmless thing?" asked the Consul. "Because the doll was undressed, of course," answered his daughter. Nora soon joined in; she was used to this sort of thing. She also had a father who loved to tease girls. The other two took but little part, but as against that the Consul kept his eyes on them almost continually. Tinka could quite understand that Tora might attract his attention, but why should she? She grew uneasy by degrees. Her dress might have come unsewn somewhere near the arm, it happened so to her sometimes; she looked as well as she could, but failed to discover anything; she felt as though she had no dress on at all. The Consul was very merry; suddenly he turned all his attention to Tora, they had only been a short time at table and she had finished already! The fact was that the unlucky cuffs worried Tora to such an extent that they ran between her and her wits. The Consul looked at her suddenly; it was not the birth-mark that he was looking at, for she had been careful to have that side next to Milla; it was certainly not her face, his looks were directed lower than that. She put down her knife and fork and hid her hands under the table. "You are not eating, my dear Fröken Holm; are you not well, missie? What's amiss with you? Or is there anything particular you want? Just say what it is. Milla, give Fröken Holm another cup of tea. No tea either? A glass of wine? Come now, just a glass of wine. Your good health, Fröken! But you won't drink any? Do you prefer Madeira? Good gracious, are you blushing about it? Headache? Dear, dear! Perhaps you would like----? Shall Milla help you? Not that either? Just say what you want, my dear. Have you often a headache, Fröken Holm? What, you have not got one? I once knew a girl who would have a headache merely if something were amiss with her cuffs. But, my dear Milla, I do not want to tease Fröken Holm. Is that what it is, Fröken Holm?" Tora was overcome by a feeling of helplessness which would seize her for even a smaller cause than this, and which always made her cry. She had to leave the table and hasten upstairs.