Mr. Johnson was sitting in a moody and angry state of mind about an hour after supper, when a domestic came into the room and said that Mr. Watson was in the parlor.
"What does he want here?" asked Mr. Johnson, in a rough, excited voice.
"He asked for Miss Flora," returned the servant.
"Where is she?"
"In her room."
"Well, let her stay there. I'll see him myself."
And without taking time for reflection, Mr. Johnson descended to the parlor.
"Mr. Watson," said he, coldly, as the young man arose and advanced towards him.
His manner caused the visitor to pause, and let the hand he had extended fall to his side.
"Well, what is your wish?" asked Mr. Johnson. He looked with knit brows into Watson's face.