ion. What did that little vigilant creature ever fail to remark?

"Mirry make tea," he said, or seemed to say, and my face paled and
flushed alternately, until my brain swam.

"Make tea?" said the voice of Mrs. Clayton, apparently at a great
distance. "No, I will make the tea, Ernie, as long as we stay together.
Mirry does not know how to draw tea like an Englishwoman."

Oh, fortunate misunderstanding! how great was the reaction it
occasioned! From an almost fainting condition I rallied to vivacity,
and, for long, weary hours, sat pointing out pictures to the boy, to win
him to oblivion, and persuade him to silence. Singularly enough, but
not unusual with him, he never resumed the topic. I had taken pains to
hide my work from his observing eyes; and how he knew it, unless he lay
silently and watched me from his little bed, when I worked at early dawn
in mine, I never could conjecture. A few days later Mrs. Clayton
announced to me that Mr. Bainrothe would call very shortly.

It was early morning, I remember, when she laid before me the card of
"Basil Bainrothe," with its elaborate German characters, on which was
written, in pencil, the addendum, "Will call at ten o'clock;" and,
punctual as the hand to the hour, he knocked at the dressing-room door
at the appointed time, and was admitted.

He entered with that light, jaunty step peculiar to him, and which I
have consequently ever associated in others with impudence and guile.
Hat and cane in the left hand, he entered; two fingers of the right
raised to his lips, by way of salutation (he clinched his glove in the
remainder), to be offered to me later, and ignored completely, then
waved carelessly, as if condoning the offense.

He was quite a picture as he came in--a fashion-plate, and as such I
coolly regarded him--fresh, fair, and smiling, looking younger, if
possible, than when we parted a year before, and handsome, as that
much-abused word goes, in his debonair, off-hand style of appearance.

He was dressed with even more than his usual care and trimness (wore
patent-leather boots, my aversion from that hour, for these were the
first I had ever seen), and lavender-colored pantaloons, very tightly
strapped down over them; a glossy black coat and vest, and linen of
unimpeachable quality and whiteness; while a chain of fine Venetian
gold held his watch, or eye-glass, or both, in suspension from his neck.
Yet no beggar in rags ever appeared to me half so loathly as di