locality, and towards the close of the afternoon he found himself
upon its broad steps applying vigorous strokes to the ponderous brass
knocker, and half hoping the summons would be answered by Maggie
herself. But it was not, and in the bent, white-haired woman who came
with measured footsteps we recognize old Hagar, who spent much of her
time at the house, and who came to the door in compliance with the
request of the young ladies, both of whom, from an upper window, were
curiously watching the stranger.

"Just the old witch one would expect to find in this out-of-the-way
place," thought Mr. Douglas, while at the same time he asked if that
were Madam Conway's residence, and if a young man by the name of
Warner were staying there.

"Another city beau!" muttered Hagar, as she answered in the
affirmative, and ushered him into the parlor. "Another city
beau--there'll be high carryings-on now, if he's anything like the
other one, who's come mighty nigh turning the house upside down."

"What did you say?" asked George Douglas, catching the sound of her
muttering, and thinking she was addressing himself.

"I wasn't speaking to you. I was talking to a likelier person,"
answered old Hagar in an undertone, as she shuffled away in quest of
Henry Warner, who by this time was able to walk with the help of a
cane.

The meeting between the young men was a joyful one, for though George
Douglas was a little sore on the subject of Rose, he would not suffer
a matter like that to come between him and Henry Warner, whom he had