"But"—Jenny bethought herself—"how did you find your way up here? Did you ask them at home for my address, or at the artists' club?"
Gram laughed.
"No; I met you on the stairs the other day, and yesterday, as I was going to the office, I saw you again. I followed you. I was half a mind to stop you and introduce myself. Then I saw you go in here, and I knew there were studios in this house, so I thought I would pay you a visit."
"Do you know," said Jenny, with a merry laugh, "Helge too followed me in the street—I was with a friend. He had lost his way in the old streets by the rag market, and he came and spoke to us. That is how we made his acquaintance. We thought it rather cool at the time, but it seems to run in the family."
Gram frowned, and sat quiet an instant. Jenny realized that she had said the wrong thing, and was thinking what to say next.
"May I make you some tea?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer lit the spirit-lamp under the kettle.
"Miss Winge, you must not be afraid that Helge is like me in other things. I don't think he takes after his father in anything—fortunately." He laughed. Jenny did not know what to say to this, and busied herself with the tea.
"It's rather bare in here, as you see, but I live at home with my mother."
"I see. This a good studio, is it not?"
"I think so."
After a moment he said: "I have been thinking of you very much lately, Miss Winge—I understood from my son's letters that you and he.…"
"Yes, Helge and I are very fond of each other," said Jenny, looking straight at him. He took her hand and held it an instant.
