Armed with these intentions, I mounted the stairs, knocked at the door, and asked for Miss Ormerod, which I had gathered was the lady's name. The servant looked at me a little doubtfully, but finally the piano stopped, and she asked me to come in. I put on my most pathetic expression, and entered. I confronted a lady who had just risen from the piano. With some surprise I noticed that it was not the elderly spinster, but a little damsel of prepossessing attributes, and with big merry-hearted eyes.
"I came to see Miss Ormerod," I explained.
"I am Miss Ormerod," she answered.
I am never a very self-possessed young man, and this sudden upsetting of my plans took me aback. The elderly spinster was obviously only a frequent visitor. It is one thing to appeal pathetically to the better feelings of a lady of advanced years, and another to explain matters to a young damsel.
"I live in the flat down below," I continued, "and I came to call to—er——"
"Came to call?" she answered, with an amused air, and a glance at the clock.
"Not to call in the ordinary way," I stammered, "but I couldn't help it. You see, you were playing the piano, and—and——"
"Wasn't it sufficiently audible down below?" she inquired, chillingly.
