r and pointed to the door. "Are you
well enough to see your way out?" she asked.

Linley turned on the wretch with a mind divided between wonder and
disgust. "Good God, what has she done to deserve being treated in that
way?" he asked.

Miss Wigger's mouth widened; Miss Wigger's forehead developed new
wrinkles. To own it plainly, the schoolmistress smiled.

When it is of serious importance to a man to become acquainted with a
woman's true nature--say, when he contemplates marriage--his one poor
chance of arriving at a right conclusion is to find himself provoked by
exasperating circumstances, and to fly into a passion. If the lady flies
into a passion on her side, he may rely on it that her faults are more
than balanced by her good qualities. If, on the other hand, she exhibits
the most admirable self-control, and sets him an example which ought to
make him ashamed of himself, he has seen a bad sign, and he will do well
to remember it.

Miss Wigger's self-control put Herbert Linley in the wrong, before she
took the trouble of noticing what he had said.

"If you were not out of temper," she replied, "I might have told you
that I don't allow my house to be made an office for the engagement of
governesses. As it is, I merely remind you that your carriage is at the
door."

He took the only course that was open to him; he took his hat.

Sydney turned away to leave the room. Linley opened the door for her.
"Don't be discouraged," he whispered as she passed him; "you shall
hear from me." Having said this, he made his parting bow to the
schoolmistress. Miss Wigger held up a peremptory forefinger, and stopped
him on his way out. He waited, wondering what she would do next. She
rang the bell.

"You are in the house of a gentlewoman," Miss Wigger explained. "My
servant attends visitors, when they leave me." A faint smell of soap
made itself felt in the room; the maid appeared, wiping her smoking arms
on her apron. "Door. I wish you good-morning"--were the last words of
Miss Wigger.

Leaving the house, Linley slipped a bribe into the servant's hand. "I
am going to write to Miss Westerfield," he said. "Will you see that she
gets my letter?"

"That I will!"

He was surprised by the fervor with which the girl answered him.
Absolutely without vanity, he had no suspicion of the value which his
winning manner, his kind brown eyes, and his sunny smile had conferred
on his little gift of money. A handsome man was an eighth