served the miller. "The pie was steaming hot and yet not burnt, the beer was well frothed but not shaken nor thickened, and the pipe draws well. Where does your father dwell?"
"He is dead, sir," said Princess Osra very demurely.
"And your mother?" pursued the miller.
"She also is dead."
"There is small harm in that," said the miller thoughtfully; and Osra turned away her head to hide her smile.
"Are you not very lonely, living here all by yourself?" she asked a moment later.
"Indeed I have to do everything for myself," said the miller sadly.
"And there is nobody to—to care for you?"
"No, nor to look after my comfort," said the miller. "Have you any kindred?"
"I have two brothers, sir; but they are married now, and have no need of me."
The miller laid down his pipe and, setting his elbow on the table, faced Princess Osra.
"H'm!" said he. "And is it likely you will ride this way again?"
"I may chance to do so," said Osra,
