old gentleman who read without glasses, but could see nothing six feet
away. He usually received and dismissed his visitors without bothering
himself to discover or imagine what manner of people they were. "I do
not care how they look," he would say. "They probably look as they
talk, without form and void." But at the moment when Maud entered his
little room, he had put on his lenses to look out of the window, and he
turned to see a perfect form in a closely fit ting dress, and a face
pretty enough to look on with a critical pleasure. He received her
kindly, and encouraged her to hope for an appointment, and it was in
accordance with his suggestion that she called upon Farnham, as we have
related.

She did not go immediately. She took several days to prepare what she
called "a harness" of sufficient splendor, and while she was at work
upon it she thought of many things. She was not even yet quite sure
that she wanted a place in the library. The Doctor had been very kind,
but he had given her clearly to understand that the work required of
her would be severe, and the pay very light. She had for a long time
thought of trying to obtain a clerkship at Washington,--perhaps Farnham
would help her to that,--and her mind wandered off among the
possibilities of chance acquaintance with bachelor senators and
diplomats. But the more she thought of the coming interview, the more
her mind dwelt upon the man himself whom she was going to see--his bow
and his smile, his teeth and his mustache, and the perfect fit of his
clothes. One point in regard to him was still vague in her mind, and as
to that her doubts were soon resolved. One evening she said to her
father:

"Did you ever see Captain Farnham?"