ll, bare, immaculate office. She
was sitting at a table; and, as he entered, with Eunice dragging
desperately at his hand, she half rose, with a quick, faint blush.

"Mr. Penny," she exclaimed, in a low, charming surprise. "I didn't
expect, so soon, to have the pleasure ... here, at my school." He firmly
moved Eunice from her position at his back. "An unexpected pleasure for
me," he replied. "I came to consult with you about this little girl--the
daughter of a friend of mine. A friend, I may add, in difficult
circumstances, and for whom I am prepared to do a great deal. I had
hoped--Stephen Jannan told me about your exceptional establishment--that
you could take her. She needs just the supervision that I am certain you
offer."

"Of course," she replied immediately, "I'd be glad to have any one
recommended by you. I do think my school is unusual. You see, there is
almost no provision for the supervision of such young ladies. And I have
been very fortunate in my girls; I try not to be snobbish, Mr. Penny;
but, indeed, if a place like this is to be useful, some care is
required. Probably you would like an assurance of their studies and
deportment."

"No," he stopped her hastily; "it is quite enough to have seen you." A
deeper, painful colour suffused her cheeks. He had, he thought, been
inexcusably clumsy. He had unconsciously given voice to the conviction
that Miss Brundon, like her establishment, was exceptional. She was,
ordinarily, too pale for beauty; her countenance, with high, cheek
bones, was irregular; yet her eyes, tranquil blue, held a steady quality
almost the radiance of an inward light. Her diffidence, it was clear,
co-existed with a firm, inviolable spirit. He said, later:

"You will discover that there are many things Eunice requires, and I
would be obliged if you would procure them without stint, and send the
accounts to my Philadelphia office. The child has been in circumstances
of considerable poverty; but I wish to give her whatever advantages
money can bring. Yes--Eunice Scofield. And--" he hesitated, "in view of
this...."

"I understand, oh, completely," Susan Brundon interrupted him warmly.
"You don't wish your charity exposed; and not only on your own account,
but from consideration for the susceptibilities of the parents,
parent--a mother, I gather."

It had been, he thought, leaving, ridiculously simple. His meeting with
Miss Brundon was a fortunate chance. A fine, delicate, unworldly woman