"Will you have some soup, Mr. Fowler?" asked the housekeeper.

She was a tall thin woman, with a reserved manner that was somewhat
repellant. She had only nodded slightly at the introduction, fixing her
eyes coldly and searchingly on the face of our hero. It was evident that
whatever impression the service rendered might have made upon the
mind of Mr. Wharton, it was not calculated to warm the housekeeper to
cordiality.

"Thank you," he answered, but he could not help feeling at the same time
that Mrs. Bradley was not a very agreeable woman.

"You ought to have a good appetite," said Mr. Wharton. "You have to work
hard during the day. Our young friend is a cash-boy at Gilbert & Mack's,
Mrs. Bradley.

"Oh, indeed!" said Mrs. Bradley, arching her brows as much as to say:
"You have invited strange company to dinner."

"Do your parents live in the city, Frank--I believe your name is Frank?"

"No, sir; they are dead. My mother died only a few weeks since."

"And have you no brothers and sisters?"

"I have one sister--Grace."

"I suppose she is in the city here with you?"