"Will you not now allow me to see my fair Henrietta?" he asked.
"Oh, I have been a little flurried, and did forget it was quite dark. I'll light the lamp in a minute."
Etta's sweet voice was now heard humming a song in the next room. She had returned from her visit, and as Miss Henrietta succeeded in lighting the lamp, her bright face peeped in the door, and she said:
"Aunty, Squire Sloughman is coming up the walk."
"Bless her sweet face! There is my Henrietta now!" exclaimed the visitor, and before the shade was adjusted on the lamp, she was alone. The handsome stranger was in the next room with—Etta!
A little scream, an exclamation of surprise from Etta, followed by the deep, manly voice of Mr. Linton, saying:
"Dearest Henrietta, I have your aunt's permission to win you, if I can."
"Henrietta! Little baby Etta! Sure enough, that was her name, too. What an idiot she had been!" thought Henrietta, the elder. "Oh! she hoped she had not exposed her mistake! Maybe he had not understood her!"
But Squire Sloughman was waiting for some one to admit him, and she had no more time to think over the recent conversation, or to determine whether or not Mr. Linton was aware of her blunder.
Squire Sloughman was cordially welcomed, and after being seated a while, observed: