hich to employ him."

"Remember, Loo," said he, warmly, "he's a shrewd fellow in _his_ way."

"In _his_ way' he is, but _his_ way is not _mine_," said she, with a
saucy toss of the head. "Have you any idea, papa, of what may be
the sort of place or employment he looks for? Is he ambitious, or has
adversity taught him humility?"

"A good deal depends upon the time of the day when one talks to him.
Of a morning he is usually downcast and depressed; he 'd go out as
a magistrate to the Bahamas or consul to a Poyais republic. Towards
dinner-time he grows more difficult and pretentious; and when he has
got three or four glasses of wine in, he would n't take less than the
Governorship of a colony."

"Then it's of an evening one should see him."

"Nay, I should say not, Loo. I would rather take him at his cheap
moment."

"Quite wrong, papa,--quite wrong. It is when his delusions are strongest
that he will be most easily led. His own vanity will be the most
effectual of all intoxications. But you may leave him to _me_ without
fear or misgiving."

"I suppose so," said he, dryly. And a silence of some minutes ensued.
"Why are you taking such pains about your hair, Loo," asked he, "if you
are going in domino?"

"None can ever tell when or where they must unmask in this same life
of ours, papa," said she, laughingly; "and I have got such a habit of
providing for casualties that I have actually arranged my papers and
letters in the fashion they ought to be found in after my death."

Holmes sighed. The thought of such a thing as death is always unwelcome
to a man with a light auburn wig and a florid complexion, who wants to
cheat Fate into the notion that he is hale and hearty, and who likes to
fancy himself pretty much what he was fifteen or twenty years ago. And
Holmes sighed with a feeling of compassionate sorrow for himself.

"By the way, papa," said she, in a careless, easy tone, "where are you
stopping?"

"At the Hotel d'Italie, my dear."

"What do you think,--had n't you better come here?"

"I don't exactly know, nor do I precisely see how."

"Leave all that to me, papa. You shall have an invitation,--'Sir William
Heathcote's compliments,' &c,--all in due form, in the course of the
day, and I 'll give directions about your room. You have no servant, I
hope?"

"None."

"So much the better; there is no guarding against the garrulity of that
class, and all the craftiest stratagems of the drawing-room are often