e not very wet"--
and gave a quick glance of inquiry at Westray.

The organist did not appear pleased at seeing her. He grunted testily,
and, saying "Where is your aunt? Tell her I want to speak to her," led
Westray into one of the rooms opening out of the hall.

It was a large room, with an upright piano in one corner, and a great
litter of books and manuscript music. A table in the middle was set for
tea; a bright fire was burning in the grate, and on either side of it
stood a rush-bottomed armchair.

"Sit down," he said to Westray; "this is my reception-room, and we will
see in a minute what Miss Joliffe can do for _you_." He glanced at his
companion, and added, "That was her niece we met in the passage," in so
unconcerned a tone as to produce an effect opposite to that intended,
and to lead Westray to wonder whether there was any reason for his
wishing to keep the girl in the background.

In a few moments the landlady appeared. She was a woman of sixty, tall
and spare, with a sweet and even distinguished face. She, too, was
dressed in black, well-worn and shabby, but her appearance suggested
that her thinness might be attributed to privation or self-denial,
rather than to natural habit.

Preliminaries were easily arranged; indeed, the only point of discussion
was raised by Westray, who was disturbed by scruples lest the terms
which Miss Joliffe offered were too low to be fair to herself. He said
so openly, and suggested a slight increase, which, after some demur, was
gratefully accepted.

"You are too poor to have so fine a conscience," said the organist
snappishly. "If you are so scrupulous now, you will be quite unbearable
when you get rich with battening and fattening on this restoration."
But he was evidently pleased with Westray's consideration for Miss
Joliffe, and added with more cordiality: "You had better come down and
share my meal; your rooms will be like an ice-house such a night as
this. Don't be long, or the turtle will be cold, and the ortolans baked
to a cinder. I will excuse evening dress, unless you happen to have
your court suit with you."

Westray accepted the invitation with some willingness, and an hour later
he and the organist were sitting in the rush-bottomed armchairs at
either side of the fireplace. Miss Joliffe had herself cleared the
table, and brought two tumblers, wine-glasses, sugar, and a jug of
water, as if they were natural properties of the organist's
sitting-r