d to the window, which had just resounded to a slight tap or
blow, as if something soft had struck it. With an instinctive
suspicion of the propinquity of the adjoining street he rose, but a
single glance from the window satisfied him that no missile would have
reached it from thence. He scanned the low bushes on the level before
him; certainly no one could be hiding there. He lifted his eyes toward
the house on the left; the curtains of the nearest window appeared to
be drawn suddenly at the same moment. Could it have come from there?
Looking down upon the window-ledge, there lay the mysterious missile--a
little misshapen ball. He opened the window and took it up. It was a
small handkerchief tied into a soft knot, and dampened with water to
give it the necessary weight as a projectile.

Was it apparently the trick of a mischievous child? or--

But here a faint knock on the door leading into the hall checked his
inquiry. He opened it sharply in his excitement, and was embarrassed
to find the daughter of his hostess standing there, shy, startled, and
evidently equally embarrassed by his abrupt response.

"Mother only wanted me to ask you if Ellen had put everything to
rights," she said, making a step backwards.

"Oh, thank you. Perfectly," said Herbert with effusion. "Nothing
could be better done. In fact"--

"You're quite sure she hasn't forgotten anything? or that there isn't
anything you would like changed?" she continued, with her eyes leveled
on the floor.

"Nothing, I assure you," he said, looking at her downcast lashes. As
she still remained motionless, he continued cheerfully, "Would
you--would you--care to look round and see?"

"No; I thank you."

There was an awkward pause. He still continued to hold the door open.
Suddenly she moved forward with a school-girl stride, entered the room,
and going to the harmonium, sat down upon the music-stool beside it,
slightly bending forward, with one long, slim, white hand on top of the
other, resting over her crossed knees.

Herbert was a little puzzled. It was the awkward and brusque act of a
very young person, and yet nothing now could be more gentle and
self-composed than her figure and attitude.

"Yes," he continued, smilingly; "I am only afraid that I may not be
able to live quite up to the neatness and regularity of the example I
find here everywhere. You know I am dreadfully careless and not at all
orderly. I shudder to think what may happen