“Mr. Durnford,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “tells me it is a common thing for young ladies to be secretaries now-a-days; and he very highly recommended this one in particular.”
Miss Jemima knew, that if her brother’s mind was made up, it would be useless to withstand his will.
“When is she coming?” was all she said.
“I don’t know. Mr. Durnford promised to write and ask her to come and see us first. You shall talk with her yourself, Jemima; and, believe me, if there is any good reason to object to the arrangement, she shall not be engaged.”
Miss Jemima permitted herself just one other word.
“I am surprised at Mr. Durnford!” she said; and then the matter dropped.
Two days later, in prompt response to the minister’s letter, Miss Owen duly arrived. Mr. Durnford met her at the station, and conducted her to the house of “Cobbler” Horn. He had sent her, in his letter, all needful information concerning “Cobbler” Horn, and the circumstances which rendered it necessary for him to engage a secretary.
“They reside at present,” he said during the walk from the station, “in a small house, but will soon remove to a larger one.”
“Cobbler” Horn was busy in his workshop when they arrived; but Miss Jemima was awaiting them in solitary state, in the front-room. The good lady had meant to be forbidding and severe in her reception of the “forward minx,” whom she had settled it in her mind the prospective secretary would prove to be. But the moment her eyes beheld Miss Owen she was disarmed. The dark-eyed, black-haired, modestly-attired, and even sober-looking girl, who put out her hand with a very simple movement, and spoke, with considerable self-possession truly, but certainly not with an impudent air, bore but scant resemblance to the “brazen hussey” who had haunted Miss Jemima’s mind for the past two days.
“Cobbler” Horn came in from his workshop, and greeted the young girl with an honest heartiness which placed her at her ease at once.