ho was sent to Margaret with a
modified version of the disaster.

"Please, Janetta says, will you stay for a little minute or two till she
comes back again? Curly's gone for the doctor because Ph[oe]be's done
something to one of her bones; and Janetta's tying up Julian's thumb
because it's bleeding so dreadfully."

"I have never seen you before, have I?" said Margaret, smiling at the
slim little girl with the delicate face and great blue eyes. "You are
Tiny; I have often heard of you. Do you know me?"

"Yes," said Tiny. "You are the beautiful lady who sends us flowers and
things--Janetta's friend."

"Yes, that is right. And how long will Janetta be?"

"Oh, not long, she said; and she hoped you would not mind waiting for a
little while?"

"Not at all. Is that the doctor?" as a knock resounded through the
little house.

"I dare say it is," said Tiny, running to the door; and then after a
moment's pause, she added, in a rather disappointed tone, "No, it's
Julian's father. It's Mr. Brand."

"Mr. Brand!" said Margaret, half-astonished and half-amused. "Oh, I have
heard of him." And even as she spoke, the door opened, and Wyvis Brand
walked straight into the room.

He gave a very slight start as his eyes fell upon Margaret, but betrayed
no other sign of surprise. Tiny flew to him at once, dragged at his
hand, and effected some sort of informal introduction, mingled with an
account of the accident which had happened to Julian.

"Don't you want to go and ascertain the amount of the injury?" said
Margaret, with a little smile.

"Not at all," said Wyvis, emphatically, and took up his position by the
mantel-piece, whence he got the best view of her graceful figure and
flower-like face. Margaret felt the gaze and was not displeased by it,
admiration was no new thing to her; she smiled vaguely and slightly
lowered her lovely eyes. And Wyvis stood and looked.

In spite of his apparent roughness Wyvis Brand was an impressionable
man. He had come into the room cold, tired, not quite in his usual
health, and more than usually out of humor; and instead of the ordinary
sight of Janetta--a trim, pleasant, household-fairy sort of sight, it
was true, but not of the wildly exciting kind--he found a vision, as it
seemed to him, of the most ethereal beauty--a woman whose every movement
was full of grace, whose exquisitely modulated voice expressed
refinement as clearly as her delicately moulded features; whose whole
being seemed