"I'll give the letter to Miss Oakley if you like, and if you don't like, you can wait till I send her to you. Easy does it."
"Thank you, sir," said the boy, "I'd rather give it to the young lady myself."
"Very good," said Ben. "Rise betimes, and hear early chimes."
With this effort of proverbial lore, Ben marched into the shop, where old Oakley was, with a magnifying glass fitted to his eyes, performing some extraordinary operation upon a microscope. Ben merely said "How is you?" and then passed on to the back-room, having received from the old optician a slight nod by way of a return of the friendly salutation. Ben always esteemed it a stroke of good fortune when he found Johanna alone, which, in the present instance, he did. She rose to receive him, and placed one of her small hands in his, where for a moment or two it was completely hidden.
"All right?" said Ben.
"Yes, as usual. No news."
"I saw a boy at the door with a letter from a unicorn."
"From a what?"
"No, an addle—no. Let me see. A unicorn, waiting with a gentleman in addle something. Easy does it. That ain't it, neither. Where is she?"
Guessing that it was some one with a communication from some friend to her, Johanna had glided to the door, and got the letter from the boy. She came with it to the parlour at once, and opened it. It was from Colonel Jeffery, and ran as follows:—