He got into a fret at once. Netty was not the Netty of an hour ago,
or she would have coaxed him out of it. But she did not notice it now
in her abstraction. She had risen at the tinkle of the bell, and seated
herself in a chair. Presently a nose, with a great pimple on the end
of it, appeared at the edge of the door, and a weak, piping voice said,
reckless of the proper tense, "There was a woman wanted to see you,
sir."

"Who is it, James?--no matter, show her in."

He got up with the vexed scowl on his face, and walked the room. In
a minute the library door opened again, and a pale, thin, rigid,
frozen-looking little woman, scantily clad, the weather being
considered, entered, and dropped a curt, awkward bow to Dr. Renton.

"O, Mrs. Miller! Good evening, ma'am. Sit down," he said, with a cold,
constrained civility.

The little woman faintly said, "Good evening, Dr. Renton," and sat down
stiffly, with her hands crossed before her, in the chair nearest the
wall. This was the obdurate tenant, who had paid no rent for three
months, and had a notice to quit, expiring to-morrow.

"Cold evening, ma'am," remarked Dr. Renton, in his hard way.

"Yes, sir, it is," was the cowed, awkward answer.

"Won't you sit near the fire, ma'am?" said Netty, gently; "you look
cold."