“Elizabeth Wyvil.”
“Yes, Aunt Sophie, this is for me, and I think it must be in answer to my application,” she said.
“Very well, my dear; I will go and tell the man,” replied the old lady, as she went again to the front door to explain the case and dismiss the postman.
“Now then, dearie, is the answer favorable?” she inquired, as she returned and took a seat beside Lilith, who sat at the centre table reading her letter by the light of the gasalier.
“It is favorable; if it were not, you know, I should never have received it. Advertisers, I suppose, do not take the trouble to write rejections,” replied Lilith.
“No, I reckon not, especially as in every case I have heard there are hundreds of applications for one place. Well, dearie, has the widow lady decided to engage you?”
“No, not decided; she has only appointed an interview with me on Monday at twelve noon, at the Constellation Hotel.”
“Oh!”
“But that, you know, is very hopeful.”
“Yes, I reckon it is. Well, honey, I hope you will find her a good, kind friend; but who is she, my dearie? Ah! here they come!”