ng. But it is such
a comfort," she added, saucily, "to get all one's business off one's
mind before breakfast!"

Father, daughter, and guest sat down together sociably at the little
round table, the best of good neighbors and good friends already.

Three days later, one of the London newsboys got _his_ business off his
mind before breakfast. His district was Diana Street, Pimlico; and the
last of the morning's newspapers which he disposed of was the newspaper
he left at Mrs. Oldershaw's door.

III. THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY.

More than an hour after Allan had set forth on his exploring expedition
through his own grounds, Midwinter rose, and enjoyed, in his turn, a
full view by daylight of the magnificence of the new house.

Refreshed by his long night's rest, he descended the great staircase as
cheerfully as Allan himself. One after another, he, too, looked into
the spacious rooms on the ground floor in breathless astonishment at the
beauty and the luxury which surrounded him. "The house where I lived in
service when I was a boy, was a fine one," he thought, gayly; "but it
was nothing to this! I wonder if Allan is as surprised and delighted as
I am?" The beauty of the summer morning drew him out through the open
hall door, as it had drawn his friend out before him. He ran briskly
down the steps, humming the burden of one of the old vagabond tunes
which he had danced to long since in the old vagabond time. Even the
memories of his wretched childhood took their color, on that happy
morning, from the bright medium through which he looked back at them.
"If I was not out of practice," he thought to himself, as he leaned
on the fence and looked over at the park, "I could try some of my old
tumbling tricks on that delicious grass." He turned, noticed two of the
servants talking together near the shrubbery, and asked for news of the
master of the house.

The men pointed with a smile in the direction of the gardens; Mr.
Armadale had gone that way more than an hour since, and had met (as had
been reported) with Miss Milroy in the grounds. Midwinter followed the
path through the shrubbery, but, on reaching the flower garden, stopped,
considered a little, and retraced his steps. "If Allan has met with the
young lady," he said to himself, "Allan doesn't want me." He laughed as
he drew that inevitable inference, and turned considerately to explore
the beauties of Thorpe Ambrose on the other side of the house.

Passing the