en in such a calm and resolute voice that they felt
bound to obey, and all four withdrew into the innermost chamber, locking
the door behind them.

A few hours later the door was reopened, and they all four appeared
again.

But how every face had changed!

Fanny's face was no longer pale, but as red as the dawn, serene, and
open as a half-blown rose.

Master Boltay was twisting his moustache as if he meditated something
terrible; but for an occasional chuckle, one would have said that he
was very angry indeed.

Even honest Teresa's eyes sparkled, but the sparks of triumphant revenge
were in them after all.

And then the bridegroom, Squire John! Where was he, and what had become
of the old Nabob? Could any one have recognized him? Was this merry,
sprightly, leaping, smiling, triumphant creature the same man? Why, he
had grown twenty years younger at the very least! It was a changeling,
surely!

"To-morrow, then, in the afternoon," said he, with a voice that trembled
for joy.

"Yes, to-morrow," replied Fanny. Their eyes flashed with a strange fire
as they looked at each other.

Thereupon Squire John rushed to his carriage, opened the door himself,
without waiting for Palko to let down the steps, and, turning round,
shouted once more, "To-morrow afternoon!"

"Hush, hush!" said Fanny, putting her index-finger to her pretty little
lips.

"Drive into Pressburg!" cried Squire John with impatient celerity, while
Palko clambered up on to the box from whence he phlegmatically looked
down upon his master.

"What are you staring at, sirrah? Drive on, I say."

"We have left something behind here," said the old servant.

"What have we left behind, eh?"

"Twenty years of your age, my honoured young sir," replied Palko,
without the suspicion of a smile.

Squire John laughed good-naturedly at the comic rejoinder, and a few
moments later a cloud of dust far away on the high-road was all that was
to be seen of the carriage.

* * * * *

Early next morning a servant arrived at Boltay's country house by the
market cart, with the embroidered sofa which Mrs. Meyer sent to Fanny.
The servant whispered secretly that a letter had been thrust into the
bottom of the sofa; and so it was.

Fanny searched for the letter till she found it. It was in her mother's
handwriting. The rich gentleman was delighted, it said, so delighted in
fact, that he had arranged to give a grand party in Fanny's hon