'Much better, thank you. Did you say Mrs. Martindale was at home?'

'Yes, sir; Mr. Arthur will soon be here. Won't you walk in?'

'Is she in the drawing-room?'

'No, I do not think so, sir. She went up-stairs when she came in.'

'Very well. I'll send up my card,' said he, entering, and the man as
he took it, said, with emphasis, and a pleading look, 'She is a very
nice young lady, sir,' then opened a room door.

He suddenly announced, 'Mr. Martindale,' and that gentleman
unexpectedly found himself in the presence of a young girl, who rose in
such confusion that he could not look at her as he shook her by the
hand, saying, 'Is Arthur near home?'

'Yes--no--yes; at least, he'll come soon,' was the reply, as if she
hardly knew what her words were.

'Were you going out?' he asked, seeing a bonnet on the sofa.

'No, thank you,--at least I mean, I'm just come in. He went to speak
to some one, and I came to finish my letter. He'll soon come,' said
she, with the rapid ill-assured manner of a school-girl receiving her
mamma's visitors.

'Don't let me interrupt you,' said he, taking up a book.

'O no, no, thank you,' cried she, in a tremor lest she should have been