"Mr. Harrison," put in my Western friend.
"Yes, sir."
The girl disappeared. My heart beat strongly. It seemed to me as if life and death hung upon the meeting that was to follow.
CHAPTER XXXIV
MRS. AGATHA. MITTS
I could not help but wonder, as I sat in the parlor with my friend Mr. Harrison, waiting for the appearance of Mrs. Agatha Mitts, what kind of a person the keeper of the boarding-house would prove to be.
For some reason the name suggested to me a tall, gaunt female with sharp features; and I was taken by surprise when a short, dumpy woman, with a round face, came wobbling in and asked what was wanted.
"This is Mrs. Agatha Mitts?" asked Mr. Harrison, as he arose.
"Yes, sir. And you are Mr. Harrison, I suppose. I don't remember you."
"I didn't think you would," laughed my friend from Chicago. "I am from the West, and have never before been in Brooklyn."