The outer door closed with a sullen, inhospitable jar, and a slip-shod female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb.
“Who is that for?—give it to me. Jenny,” cried Mrs. Leslie.
But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and vanished without saying a word.
“Oh, look, Randal, look up,” cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the window; “such a pretty gray pony!”
Randal did look up; nay, he went deliberately to the window, and gazed a moment on the high-mettled pony and the well-dressed, spirited rider. In that moment changes passed over Randal’s countenance more rapidly than clouds over the sky in a gusty day. Now envy and discontent, with the curled lip and the gloomy scowl; now hope and proud self-esteem, with the clearing brow and the lofty smile; and then again all became cold, firm, and close, as he walked back to his books, seated himself resolutely, and said, half aloud,—“Well, KNOWLEDGE IS POWER!”
CHAPTER IV.
Mrs. Leslie came up in fidget and in fuss; she leaned over Randal’s shoulder and read the card. Written in pen and ink, with an attempt at imitation of printed Roman character, there appeared first “MR. FRANK HAZELDEAN;” but just over these letters, and scribbled hastily and less legibly in pencil, was,—
“DEAR LESLIE,—Sorry you were out; come and see us,—do!”
“You will go, Randal?” said Mrs. Leslie, after a pause.