"Yes;" and the girl began to close the door, as if she knew what question was coming next.
"Could I be allowed to sketch it for 'The Weekly Portfolio'? All such relics are so valuable this year that we venture to ask many favors, and this is such a famous affair I've no doubt you are often troubled by requests of this sort," continued the artist, with the persuasive tone of one accustomed to make his way everywhere.
"This is the fifth time this week," replied the damsel, demurely; though her lips still struggled not to smile.
"It's very good of you, I'm sure, to let us fellows in, but the public demand is immense just now, and we only obey orders, you know," began the fifth intruder, fervently hoping the other four had been refused.
"But Mrs. Hill never does let artists or reporters in," was the gentle quencher which arrested him, as he was industriously wiping his feet on the door-mat.
"Never?" he asked, stopping short, while an expression of alarm changed suddenly to one of satisfaction.
"Never," answered the damsel, like a sweet-voiced echo.
"Then the other fellows lost their chance, and that makes the old thing doubly valuable. If I could see Mrs. Hill for a moment, I've no doubt she will allow me to sketch the chair."
"She is not at home."
"So much the better; for, when I tell you that I've come fifty miles to pick up antiquities in this town, I know you won't have the heart to send me away without the gem of the collection," replied the artist, nothing daunted; for his quick eye read the artless face before him, and saw a defiant expression come over it, which made him suspect that there had been a falling out between mistress and maid, if such they were. He was sure of it when the girl threw open the door with a decisive gesture, saying briefly,—