he said, after the first interchange
of civilities was over; "but I did not think our acquaintance would be
renewed in this manner."

No answer from Theo, who, like many others, had taken a dislike to his
mouth, and felt puzzled to know whether he intended ridiculing her or
not.

"I have a distinct recollection of your grandmother," he continued,
"and now I think of it I believe Douglas has once or twice mentioned
the elder of the two girls. That must be you?" and he looked at Theo,
whose face brightened perceptibly.

"Douglas," she repeated. "He is the owner of the store; and the one I
saw, with black eyes and black hair, was only a clerk."

"The veritable man himself!" cried Mr. Warner. "George Douglas, the
senior partner of the firm, said by some to be worth two hundred
thousand dollars, and only twenty-eight years old, and the best fellow
in the world, except that he pretends to dislike women."

By this time Theo's proud blue eyes shone with delight, and when,
after a little further conversation, Mr. Warner expressed a wish to
write to his partner, she brought her own rosewood writing desk for
him to use, and then, seating herself by the window, waited until the
letter was written.

"What shall I say for you, Miss Theo?" he asked, near the close; and,
coloring slightly, she answered, "Invite him to come out and see you."

"Oh, that will be grand!" cried Maggie, who was far more enthusiastic,
though not more anxious, than her sister.

Of her Henry Warner did not ask any message. He would not have written
it had she sent one; and folding the letter, after adding Theo's
invitation, he laid it aside.

"I must write to Rose next," he said; "'tis a whole week since I have
written, and she has never been so long without hearing from me."

Instantly there came a shadow over Maggie's face, while Theo, less
scrupulous, asked who Rose was.

"A very dear friend of mine," said Henry; and, as Mrs. Jeffrey just
then sent for Theo, Maggie was left with him alone.

"Wait one moment," she said, as she saw him about to commence the
letter. "Wait till I bring you a sheet of gilt-edged paper. It is more
worthy of Rose, I fancy, than the plainer kind."

"Thank you," he said. "I will tell her of your suggestion."

The paper was brought, and then seating herself by the window Maggie
looked out abstractedly, seeing nothing, and hearing nothing save the
sound of the pen, as it wrote down words of love for the gentle Rose.
I