ound at her
companion with a perplexed little laugh.

"Do we knock, Ellen? How does one do at a place like this,--just walk in
as it 'twere a shop, or wait till you're let in, as at a house?"

"Goodness me!" bridled Ellen, gazing at the uninviting exterior. "Why
should you be knocking and waiting when you own the whole business, I'd
like to know? Just push in and tell who you be--that's what I'd do."

"Oh, I think not, Ellen--would you? I'd rather err on the safe side,
seems to me. Do let's be polite, at least! Yes, I'll knock," and a timid
rat-tat-tat, made by a small kid-covered knuckle, announced the first
visit of the present owner of the great Early Works.

After an instant's delay the door was partly opened, and a preoccupied
face, with perpendicular lines between the keen gray eyes, was thrust
out impatiently, with the words,

"Well, why don't you come in? What--Oh, excuse me, ladies. Good-morning!
What can I do for you?"

"Is Mr. Dalton in?" asked Joyce embarrassedly.

"Yes, I am he; please walk in. You'll have to excuse the litter here.
I've been too busy to let them clean it up. Here's a chair, Miss--and
here, ma'am"--calmly overturning two close beside the desk, that were
heaped with papers.

Having thus seated his guests, the man stood in an inquiring attitude,
surreptitiously glancing at Joyce who seemed to him almost superhumanly
beautiful in that dusty place, for her pink flush and shy eyes only
accentuated her charms. She found it necessary to explain the intrusion
at once, but was so nervous over just the right form of
self-introduction required that she rather lost her head, and stammered
out,

"I--I thought I'd like to see the works and--and you"--then stopped,
feeling how awkward was this beginning.

A smile flitted over his grave countenance.

"I am before you," he said, bowing somewhat elaborately. "If looking at
me can do anybody any good----"

She checked him with a somewhat imperious gesture.

"I am Joyce Lavillotte," she said, growing cool again, "and I would like
to look the place over."

The sentence died into silence before an ejaculation so amazed and
long-drawn it made Joyce's eyes open wide. The man looked ready to burst
into laughter, yet full of respect, too. At length he broke out,

"I beg your pardon! I am so surprised. I supposed you were a man. It's
your name, probably, that deceived me--and then I never thought of a
girl--a young lady--caring to examine into thin