of her evenings. Fortunately, his kindred
with Dr. Shergold made a respectable introduction, and Lady Teasdale
whispered it among matrons that he would inherit from the wealthy doctor,
who had neither wife nor child. He might not be fair to look upon, but
handsome is that handsome has.

And now the doctor lay sick unto death. Society was out of town, but Lady
Teasdale, with a house full of friends about her down in Hampshire, did not
forget her _protege_; she waited with pleasant expectation for the young
man's release from poverty.

It came in a day or two. Dr. Shergold was dead, and an enterprising
newspaper announced simultaneously that the bulk of his estate would pass
to Mr. Henry Shergold, a gentleman at present studying for his uncle's
profession. This paragraph caught the eye of Harvey Munden, who sent a line
to his friend, to ask if it was true. In reply he received a mere postcard:
'Yes. Will see you before long.' But Harvey wanted to be off to Como, and
as business took him into the city, he crossed the river and sought Maze
Pond. Again the door was opened to him by the landlady's daughter; she
stood looking keenly in his face, her eyes smiling and yet suspicious.

'Mr. Shergold in?' he asked carelessly.

'No, he isn't.' There was a strange bluntness about this answer. The girl
stood forward, as if to bar the entrance, and kept searching his face.

'When is he likely to be?'

'I don't know. He didn't say when he went out.'

A woman's figure appeared in the background. The girl turned and said
sharply, 'All right, mother, it's only somebody for Mr. Shergold.'

'I'll go upstairs and write a note,' said Munden, in a rather peremptory
voice.

The other drew back and allowed him to pass, but with evident
disinclination. As he entered the room, he saw that she had followed. He
went up to a side-table, on which lay a blotting-book, with other
requisites for writing, and then he stood for a moment as if in meditation.

'Your name is Emma, isn't it?' he inquired, looking at the girl with a
smile.

'Yes, it is.'

'Well then, Emma, shut the door, and let's have a talk. Your mother won't
mind, will she?' he added slyly.

The girl tossed her head.

'I don't see what it's got to do with mother.' She closed the door, but did
not latch it. 'What do you want to talk about?'

'You're a very nice girl to look at, Emma, and I've always admired you when
you opened the door to me. I've always liked your nice, re