By Proxy.
About half-past twelve Claude Locker made his appearance in the spacious hall. He looked out of the front door; he looked out of the back door; he peered into the parlor; he glanced up the stairway; and then he peeped into the library. He had not seen the lady of the house since her return, and he was waiting for Olive. This morning his fate was to be positively decided; he would take a position that would allow of no postponement; he would tell her plainly that a statement that she was not prepared to give him an answer that day would be considered by him as a final rejection. She must haul down her flag or he would surrender and present to her his sword.
Claude Locker saw nothing of Miss Asher, but it was not long before the lady of the house came down-stairs.
"Oh, Mr. Locker," she exclaimed, "I am so glad to see you! Come into the library, please."
He hesitated a minute. "I beg your pardon," said he, "but I have an appointment—"
"I know that," said she, "and you may be surprised to hear that it is with me and not with Miss Asher. Come in and I will tell you about it."
Claude Locker actually ran after his hostess into the library, both of his eyes wide open.
"And now," said she, "please sit down, and hear what I have to say."
Locker seated himself on the edge of a chair; he did not feel happy; he suspected something was wrong.
"Is she sick?" he asked. "Can't she come down?"