"Unfortunately," resumed Langley, "I have no one to do the honors of my house; but my sister, who lives close by here, intends to do herself the pleasure of calling on you, Miss Vernon, and hopes to fix some evening, when I can introduce you to some professional friends—but I see you have no piano."
"We shall be most happy to make your sister's acquaintance; my piano is still at A——; but I hope to have it early next week—only I am sure I cannot think where it can stand in this diminutive chamber."
"But it is essential; you so soon lose the facility of execution. Winter tells me, you play well; and he is no mean judge."
"I trust you may be of the same opinion; but the degree of perfection required from musicians appals me!"
"Nothing mediocre goes down now," returned Langley, with an emphasis, not very encouraging. "And as I believe I have paid you a long visit," rising nervously; "my sister would have accompanied me, but one of her little boys is ill. I hope she may soon be released—I mean, be able to call on you. She knows several people about here, all with young families. Ah, good morning, Miss Vernon, good morning, sir."
"I shall take an early opportunity of returning your visit," said the Colonel, accompanying him to the door.
"Pray do; and as Mr. Winter tells me, Miss Vernon is a lover of paintings, perhaps she might like to take a look at my studio?"
"Oh, thank you," cried Kate, who had followed them. "I shall be delighted."
"Good morning, then."
"This seems promising, dear grandpapa," said Kate, settling back to her writing, with a sunny smile. "I am so glad I saw Mr. Langley, before I closed my letter; he appears friendly, though certainly not brilliant."