“Yes,” she said, with confusion, while the flash of conjecture faded away.
“Mr. Brandreth,” said her visitor, whom she now saw to be much younger than Mr. Peck could be. He looked not much more than twenty-two or twenty-three; his damp hair waved and curled upon his temples and forehead, and his blue eyes lightened from a beardless and freshly shaven face. “I called this morning because I felt sure of finding you at home.”
He smiled at his reference to the weather, and Annie smiled too as she again answered, “Yes?” She did not want his books, but she liked something that was cheerful and enthusiastic in him; she added, “Won't you step into the study?”
“Thanks, yes,” said the young man, flinging off his gossamer, and hanging it up to drip into the pan of the hat rack. He gathered up his books from the chair where he had laid them, and held them at his waist with both hands, while he bowed her precedence beside the study door.
“I don't know,” he began, “but I ought to apologise for coming on a day like this, when you were not expecting to be interrupted.”
“Oh no; I'm not at all busy. But you must have had courage to brave a storm like this.”
“No. The truth is, Miss Kilburn, I was very anxious to see you about a matter I have at heart—that I desire your help with.”
“He wants me,” Annie thought, “to give him the use of my name as a subscriber to his book”—there seemed really to be a half-dozen books in his bundle—“and he's come to me first.”
“I had expected to come with Mrs. Munger—she's a great friend of mine; you haven't met her yet, but you'll like her; she's the leading spirit in South Hatboro'—and we were coming together this morning; but she was unexpectedly called away yesterday, and so I ventured to call alone.”
“I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Brandreth,” Annie said. “Then Mrs. Munger has subscribed already, and I'm only second fiddle, after all,” she thought.