cover why she had
blushed. All that he could see was the tall figure of Maurice Kenyon,
who was standing in a doorway talking to somebody on the stairs. Even if
Lesley had seen him, she surely would not blush for that! What chance
had Kenyon had of becoming acquainted with her? Oliver forgot that other
sisters besides his own might send their brothers on messages.

Down a flight of stone steps, through a low doorway, and into a dark
little corridor, was Lesley conducted. She noticed that Mrs. Romaine and
Ethel were quite accustomed to the place. "We have often been before,
you know," Ethel explained. "It's your father's hobby, you know; his
doll's house, or Noah's Ark, or whatever you like to call it--his pet
toy. I always call it his Noah's Ark myself. The animals walk in two by
two. The men may bring their wives on Sundays. Oh, by the bye, Lesley, I
hope you don't mind smoke. The men have their pipes, you know."

And then Lesley, dazzled and confounded by her surroundings, found
herself in a brilliantly lighted room of considerable size--really two
ordinary rooms thrown into one. Immediately the squalor and ugliness of
the outer world were thrown into the background. The walls of the room
were distempered--Indian red below, warm grey above; and on the grey
walls were hung fine photographs of well-known foreign buildings or of
celebrated paintings. In one part of the room stood a magnificent
billiard-table, now neatly covered with a cloth. A neat little piano was
placed at the other end of the room, near a large table covered with a
scarlet cloth, strewn with magazines, papers, and books, and decorated
with flowers. The chairs were of solid make, seated with red leather
ornamented with brass nails. In fact, the whole place was not only
comfortable, but cheery and pleasant to the eye. Lesley was told that
there was also a library, beside a kitchen and pantry, whence visitors
could get tea or coffee, "temperance drinks," and rolls or cakes.

A few women in their "Sunday best" were looking at the books and
periodicals, or gossiping together, but they were not so numerous as
the men--respectable working-men for the most part; some of them
smoking, some reading or talking, without their pipes. In one little
group Lesley recognized, with a start, that her father was the centre of
attraction. He was sitting, as the other men were, and he was talking:
the musical notes of his cultivated voice rose clearly above the hum of
ro