"I am not at home. Who is it?"

"Mr. Caresfoot, miss!"

"Oh, why didn't you say so before?" and taking it for granted that
Philip had paid her an unexpected visit, she started off for the house
at a run.

"Why, Philip," she exclaimed, as she swung open the door, "this _is_
good of you, o--oh!" for at that moment Mr. Caresfoot senior appeared
from behind the back of the door where he had been standing by the
fireplace, and made his most imposing bow.

"That, my dear Maria, was the first time that I have heard myself
called Philip for many a long year, and I fear that that was by
accident; neither the name nor the blush were meant for me; now, where
they?"

"I thought," replied Maria, who was still overwhelmed with confusion,
"I thought that it was Philip, your son, you know; he has not been
here for so long."

"With such a welcome waiting him, it is indeed wonderful that he can
keep away;" and the old squire bowing again with such courtly grace as
to drive what little self-possession remained to poor Maria after her
flying entry entirely out of her head.

"And now, my dear," went on her visitor, fixing his piercing eyes upon
her face, "with your permission, we will sit down and have a little
talk together. Won't you take off your hat?"