Old John drew her closer to him and kissed her tenderly.
“There, Ally, dear,” he said, “we wont talk any more about it now. I know you will do all you can to make your old father happy.”
Still she said nothing, but clung very close to him.
She was a good girl, was Alice, only a little willful.
A servant entered, announcing Mr. Davis. This was the new clerk.
“Conduct him this way,” said Mr. Maynard. “Come, Ally, don’t let him surprise us in a family quarrel. We must make his first impressions good ones.”
Things were put to rights in less time than it takes to tell of it, and the new clerk approached them.
“Glad to see you, Walter,” exclaimed Old John, grasping the new comer’s hand, and looking a cordial welcome. “Ally, this is Walter Davis, the new clerk.”
Notwithstanding her determination to hate him, she smiled very pleasantly as he took her hand, and her welcome word was said with a very good grace.
The new clerk was apparently about twenty-two years of age, rather tall, but well formed; he was dressed in a very plain suit—becoming his situation; and yet there was something noble about him for all that. You could see it in the firmly compressed lips, the deep, thoughtful eye, and the easy, manly bearing. He certainly was not the person one would choose to hate.