I was about to tell her," he added with still deeper solemnity, "that
you were hout, sir, but she hinterrupted of me and said, 'He isn't
gone, there's his 'at,' which I told her you 'ad several 'ats, and
would she wait in the drawin'-room and I'd see."
Captain Farnham smiled.
"Very well, Budsey, you've done your best--and perhaps she won't eat me
after all. Is there a fire in the drawing-room?"
"No, sir."
"Let her come in here, then."
A moment afterward the rustle of a feminine step made Farnham raise his
head suddenly from his paper. It was a quick, elastic step, accompanied
by that crisp rattle of drapery which the close clinging garments of
ladies produced at that season. The door opened, and as the visitor
entered Farnham rose in surprise. He had expected to see the usual
semi-mendicant, with sad-colored raiment and doleful whine, calling for
a subscription for a new "Centennial History," or the confessed genteel
beggar whose rent would be due to-morrow. But there was nothing in any
way usual in the young person who stood before him. She was a tall and
robust girl of eighteen or nineteen, of a singularly fresh and vigorous
beauty.
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