peered about as long as she thought was
necessary, Maria said she was afraid Mr. Morris would be waiting for
her, and quickly took her leave, begging Mrs. Blynn not to trouble
herself to accompany her to the door. When she left the house Maria did
not seek the butcher's wagon, but started out on a little tour of
observation through the grounds. She was quite sure Mr. Morris was
waiting for her, but for this she did care a snap of her finger; he
would not dare to go and leave her. Presently she perceived a young
gentleman approaching her, and she recognized him instantly--it was the
goggle-eyed man who had been described to her. Stepping quickly toward
Mr. Locker, she asked him if he could tell her where she could find Miss
Asher; she had been told she was in the grounds.

The young man goggled his eye a little more than usual. "Do you know
her?" said he.

"Oh, yes," replied Maria; "I met her at the house of her uncle, Captain
Asher."

"And, knowing her, you want to see her"

Astonished, Miss Port replied, "Of course."

"Very well, then," said he; "beyond that clump of bushes is a seat. She
sits thereon. Accept my condolences."

"I will remember every word of that," said Miss Port to herself, "but I
haven't time to think of it now. He's just ravin'."

Olive had just had an interview with Mr. Locker which, in her eyes, had
been entirely too protracted, and she had sent him away. He had just
made her an offer of marriage, but she had refused even to consider it,
assuring him that her mind was occupied with other things. She was busy
thinking of those other things when she heard footsteps near her.

"How do you do" said Miss Port, extending her hand.

Olive rose, but she put her hands behind her back.

"Oh!" said Miss Port, dropping her hand, but allowing herself no verbal
resentment. She had come there for information, and she did not wish to
interfere with her own business. "I happened to be here," she said, "and
I thought I'd come and tell you how your uncle is. He took dinner with
us yesterday, and I was sorry to see he didn't have much appetite. But I
suppose he's failin', as most people do when they get to his age. I
thought you might have some message you'd like to send him."

"Thank you," said Olive with more than sufficient coldness, "but I have
no message."

"Oh!" said Miss Port. "You're in a fine place here," she continued,
looking about her, "very different from the toll-gate; and I expect the
Eas