tened to one and all versions with fierce attention, he
repaired to his dinner and consumed it in a silence which his observant
wife knew betokened affairs of unusual weight. But it was not until he
finished his dessert and pushed back from table that he informed her:

"I am going to Eunice's. Vast wealth has been found upon her premises,
and she needs me. Deny me to all smaller clients until further notice."

Then, assuming his Sunday attire and stiffest stock, he set pompously
forth down the tree-bordered street, caning a stray dog here, there
reprimanding a boy who might be playing "hookey,"--though was not,--and
shaking his fist at old Whitey, taking her accustomed stroll in and out
of inviting dooryards. Yet when he came to the wider yard before the
stone house something of his complaisance left him. "He and Eunice
Maitland had never hitched." She was always perfectly courteous, and
never failed to attend the sewing-meetings of the church when they were
held at his house, and she had even been heard to say that she had "a
great respect for Mrs. Pettijohn." She might have put a peculiar
emphasis upon the "Mrs.," but then, everybody has his or her tricks of
speech which mean nothing.

There was no door-bell at The Maples, but a polished brass knocker
announced the arrival of any visitor; and it seemed to the worried Widow
Sprigg as if that "plaguey knocker had done nothin' but whack the hull
endurin' time sence Moses got hurt. I wonder who 'tis this time!"

Consequently, the door was opened with more impatience than courtesy as
it now heralded the arrival of the Squire, who was for passing at once
into the hall had not something in Susanna's manner caused him to
hesitate.

"Miss Maitland. Is she at home? Will you present my card to her and say
that I have called in person--in person--"

"Don't see how you could have called any other way," answered the
greatly tried housekeeper, remembering him rather as "little Jimmy
Pettijohn," whom her own mother had used to feed and befriend, than as
the important personage he had since become.

"Ah, Susanna, my good woman, you were always facetious! I would like to
see your mistress. Please announce me to her and conduct me to the
drawing-room."

It was a mistaken tone and the widow hesitated at no rudeness which
would protect the beloved "friend" with whom she dwelt, and whom it was
her privilege to openly call by the familiar title of "Eunice," which
this "Jimmy" dared