"Mrs. Hamilton didn't say anything about expecting any boy," returned the servant. "You can come in, if you like, and I'll call Mrs. Hill."
"I suppose that is the housekeeper," thought Ben.
"Very well," he answered. "I believe I will come in, as Mrs. Hamilton wrote me to come."
Ben left his bag in the front hall, and with his hat in his hand followed the servant into the handsomely-furnished drawing room.
"I wish Mrs. Hamilton had been here," he said to himself. "The girl seems to look at me suspiciously. I hope the housekeeper knows about my coming."
Ben sat down in an easy-chair beside a marble-topped center table, and waited for fifteen minutes before anyone appeared. He beguiled the time by looking over a handsomely illustrated book of views, but presently the door was pushed open and he looked up.
The newcomer was a spare, pale-faced woman, with a querulous expression, who stared coldly at our hero. It was clear that she was not glad to see him. "What can I do for you, young man?" she asked in a repellent tone.
"What a disagreeable-looking woman!" thought Ben. "I am sure we shall never be friends."
"Is Mrs. Hamilton expected in soon?" he asked.
"I really cannot say. She does not report to me how long she expects to be gone."