who was anxiously inquiring where she was to sleep.

"And mother," she exclaimed, "such a pretty young lady passed through
the hall just now."

"That is something we must ask about,--what other persons are in the
house," said her father.

Frances was not a little surprised and indignant when, after carrying on
what seemed to her a long conversation with Mr. Clark upon various
unimportant subjects, her father left with nothing more definite than
that they were pleased with the rooms and would let him know their
decision next day.

"Aren't we going to take them? I thought it was all settled; I don't
understand," she said when they were on the street.

"Now, Wink, let me ask you something. Don't you honestly think that two
persons who have lived more than thirty years ought to have a little
better judgment about some things than one who has lived only ten?"

"But I'll be eleven in February, and--well, father, I suppose so, but
grown people do take so long to think!"

"It is an interesting old house, and do you know, I think that is a
Gilbert Stuart over the mantel in the back room," remarked Mr. Morrison.

"Why, father, it is a George Washington! I'm sure it is," cried Frances,
and couldn't understand why they laughed, till her mother explained that
they were probably both right, as Gilbert Stuart had painted a number
of portraits of Washington.

It spoke well for the Spectacle Man's flat that they looked no farther
that day, but there were many things to be taken into consideration that
Frances did not dream of. After she was snugly tucked in bed that night,
her father and mother sat long talking over their plans.

"I do not like the idea of leaving you here without looking up any of my
old friends," said Mr. Morrison.

"But that is just what we want to avoid. I don't care to meet your
friends till you are with me. We shall be perfectly comfortable, and
shall enjoy the experience, and Mr. Clark, I know, will be kindness
itself," replied his wife.

"You are as infatuated as Frances; you are just two little girls with a
new playhouse. But if anything should happen--I don't know what--it
might be awkward."

"I suppose I know what you mean, Jack; but we could not be suspected of
any motive in coming here, a certain person being abroad, and nothing is
going to happen. Who is likely to find us out? Morrison is a
sufficiently common name, and the Spectacle Man's apartment house is, to
say the least, not conspic