What would be his reception here?
This question was soon put at rest.
He rang the bell, and was ushered into a luxuriously-furnished room; a room that displayed more richness than taste.
A very beautiful girl—some thirteen years of age perhaps—got up from a grand piano, and stood before him.
Archie was somewhat taken aback, but bowed as composedly as he could.
“Surely,” he thought, “she cannot be the daughter of the rough and right sort of a stick who had been steward to his uncle. He had never seen so sweet a face, such dreamy blue eyes, or such wealth of hair before.
“Did you want to see papa? Sit down. I’ll go and find him.”
“Will you take this letter to him?” said Archie.
And the girl left, letter in hand.
Ten minutes after the “rough stick” entered, whistling “Sally come up.”