"Lady wants to see you, sir."
"A lady!"
"Yes, sir. A real lady; l-a-d-y. She says she's come to see the gentleman in number six about a plug hat. What's the graft, anyway?"
"A plug hat!"
"Yes, sir; a plug hat. She seems a bit anxious. Shall I send her up? She's a peach."
"Yes, send her up," I answered feebly enough.
And now there was a woman in the case! I wiped the perspiration from my brow and wondered what I should say to her. A woman.... By Jove! the sister of the mischievous boy! Old Chittenden must have told her where he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, she's worried. It must be a tremendously important letter to cause all this hubbub. So I laid aside my hat and waited, tugging and gnawing at my mustache.... Had the Girl acted reasonably I shouldn't have gone to Martin's that night.
How easy it is for a woman to hurt the man she knows I is in love with her! And the Girl had hurt me more than I was willing to confess even to myself. She had implied that I had carelessly broken an engagement.
Soon there came a gentle tapping. Certainly the young woman had abundant pluck. I approached the door quickly, and flung it open.
The Girl herself stood on the threshold, and we stared at each other with bewildered eyes!