e that was not free from accent, for
the last number of the local paper, containing lists of inhabitants,
visitors, etc.

Meanwhile, the younger man walked about the shop, whistling softly to
himself, as though he had a fund of cheerfulness on hand which must
find vent somewhere. When he came opposite Archie, he took a brief
survey of him in a careless, good-humored fashion, and then turned on
his heel, bestowing a very cursory glance on Miss Masham, who stood
shaking her black ringlets after the fashion of shopwomen, and waiting
to know the gentleman's pleasure.

No one would have called this young man very good-looking, unless such
a one had a secret predilection for decidedly reddish hair and a sandy
moustache; but there was an air of _bonhommie_, of frank kindness, of
boyish fun and pleasantry, that attracted even strangers, and Archie
looked after him with considerable interest.

"Oxford cut, father and son: father looks rather a queer customer,"
thought Archie to himself.

"Dick, come here!--why, where is that fellow?" suddenly exclaimed the
elder man, beginning to put on his eye-glasses very nervously.

"Coming, father. All right: what is it?" returned the imperturbable
Dick. He was still whistling "Twickenham Ferry" under his breath, as
he came to the counter and leaned with both elbows upon it.

"Good gracious, boy, what does this mean?" went on the other, in an
irritable perturbed voice; and he read a short advertisement, written
in a neat lady-like hand: "Dressmaking undertaken. Terms moderate, and
all orders promptly executed. Apply to--the Misses Challoner, the
Friary, Braidwood Road. Ladies waited upon at their own residences'.
What the"--he was about to add a stronger term, but, in deference to
Miss Milner, substituted--"dickens does this mean, Dick?"

The young man's reply was to snatch the paper out of his father's
hand, and study it intently, with his elbows still on the counter, and
the last bar of "Twickenham Ferry" died away uncompleted on his lips;
and if any one could have seen his face, they would have remarked a
curious redness spreading to his forehead.

"Nan's handwriting, by Jove!" he muttered, but still inaudibly; and
then he stared at the paper, and his face grew redder.

"Well, Dick, can't you answer? What does this piece of tomfoolery
mean--'dressmaking undertaken--ladies waited upon at their own
residences'? Can there be two families of Challoner and two Friaries?
and why don'