"Arthur Clifford."
Miss Maynard possessed herself of the epistle, and while the Major was addressing the envelope, added a postscript of her own:
"My Dear Jack,
"You see, I call you Jack for once--my silly old uncle has made a goose of himself. Please, please come this instant to your own Em, because--I will not say I want to kiss you. It would be most unseemly in the afternoon.
"Ever, ever your own
"Em."
This choice epistle, containing additions of which he was unconscious, the Major packed into an envelope, and, under Miss Maynard's supervision, dispatched to its destination by a maid. Then they went down, models of propriety, to luncheon.
It was after that meal, when they were again in the drawing-room, that there came a knock at the street door. Steps were heard coming up the stairs.
"It is he!" cried Miss Maynard, with that intuition bestowed upon true love preparing to receive him in her arms.
Fortunately, however, he eluded her embrace, because the visitor happened to be Mr. Spooner.