dly at the door and committed himself by
hitting it with his fist.

His equanimity was not restored by its being opened by Mr Durant
himself.

"Queeker!" exclaimed the old gentleman in surprise; "come in, my dear
sir; did you stumble against the door? I hope you haven't hurt
yourself?"

"Not at all--a--no, not at all; the fact is, I ran up the steps rather
hastily, and--how do you do, Miss Durant? I hope you are _quite_ well?"

Poor Queeker said this and shook hands with as much earnestness as if he
had not seen Katie for five years.

"Quite well, thank you. My cousin, Fanny Hennings--Mr Queeker."

Fanny bowed and Mr Queeker bowed, and, with a flushed countenance,
asked her about the state of her health with unnatural anxiety.

"Thank you, Mr Squeeker, I am very well," replied Fanny.

The unhappy youth would have corrected her in regard to his name, but
hesitated and missed the opportunity, and when, shortly afterwards,
while engaged in conversation with Mr Durant, he observed Fanny
giggling violently in a corner by herself, he felt assured that Katie
had kindly made the correction for him.

The announcement of supper relieved him slightly, and he was beginning
to calm down over a piece of bread and cheese when the door-bell rang.
Immediately after a heavy foot was heard in the passage, the parlour
door was flung open, the maid announced Mr Hall, and a tall elegant
young man entered the room. His figure was slender, but his chest was
deep and his shoulders were broad and square. An incipient moustache of
fair hair floated like a summer cloud on his upper lip, which expanded
with a hearty smile as he advanced towards Mr Durant and held out his
hand.

"You have forgotten me, I fear," he said.

"Forgotten you!" exclaimed the old gentleman, starting up and seizing
the young man's hand, which he shook violently--"forgotten Stanley
Hall--little Stanney, as I used to call you? Man, how you _are_ grown,
to be sure. What a wonderful change!"

"For the worse, I fear!" exclaimed the youth, laughing.

"Come, no fishing for compliments, sir. Let me introduce you to my
daughter Katie, my niece Fanny Hennings, and my young friend Queeker.
Now, then, sit down, and make yourself at home; you're just in time;
we've only just begun; ring the bell for another plate, Katie. How glad
I am to see you, Stanney, my boy--I can't call you by any other than the
old name, you see. How did you leave your father, and what br