ge, with the Titian tresses!"

It was Miss Millicent Fern, and she bowed to Mr. Weil. Then her bright
eyes lit up with a new lustre as they fell upon his companion.

CHAPTER V.

STUDYING MISS MILLICENT.

When Mr. Weil made his appearance at the residence of Mr. Wilton Fern,
the door was opened for him by a young negro of such superb proportions
that the caller could not help observing him with admiration. He thought
he had never seen a man more perfectly formed. The face, though too dark
to suggest the least admixture of Caucasian blood, was well featured.
The lips were not thick nor was the nose flat, as is the case with so
many of the African race. The voice, as the visitor heard it, was by no
means unpleasant. Mr. Weil could not imagine a better model for an ebony
statue than this butler, or footman, or whatever position, perhaps both,
he might be engaged to fill.

"Yes, sir, Miss Millicent is in, and she is expecting you," said the
negro, in his pleasant and strong tones. "Let me take your hat and
stick. Now, sir, this way."

Miss Fern came in a few moments to the parlor, where Archie was left,
and greeted him most cordially.

"There is a sitting-room on the next floor," she said, "where we shall
not be disturbed. I have given Hannibal orders to admit no one, saying
that we shall want the evening entirely to ourselves."

"Hannibal?" repeated the visitor. "Is that the name of the remarkable
individual who received me just now?"

"Yes," said Miss Fern, rather coldly. "Though I do not know why you call
him 'remarkable.'"

"He is so tall, so grand, so entirely overpowering," explained Mr. Weil.
"One would think he might be the son of an African king. I never saw a
black man that gave me such an impression of force and power."

Millicent elevated her eyebrows a little, as if annoyed at these
expressions. She answered, still frigidly, that she had noticed nothing
unusual about Hannibal. She did not believe she had looked closely
enough at his face to be able to identify him in a court.

"He would make a fine character for a novel," said Mr. Weil, as they
walked together up the broad staircase. "I could almost write one
myself, around such a personality."

The young lady looked disgusted.

"A negro servant!" she exclaimed. "What kind of a novel could you write
with such a central figure?"

"Perhaps I should not put him in the centre," laughed Archie, determined
to win her good nature. "Every stor