Mrs. Bradley looked from the one to the other in mute wonder. Mainwaring cast an imploring glance at Louise, which had the desired effect. Much more seriously, and in a quaint, business-like way, the young girl took it upon herself to explain to Mrs. Bradley that Richardson had brought the invalid some important news that would, unfortunately, not only shorten his stay in America, but even compel him to leave The Lookout sooner than he expected, perhaps to-morrow. Mainwaring thanked her with his eyes, and then turned to Mrs. Bradley. “Whether I go to-morrow or next day,” he said with simple and earnest directness, “I intend, you know, to see you soon again, either here or in my own home in England. I do not know,” he added with marked gravity, “that I have succeeded in convincing you that I have made your family already well known to my people, and that”--he fixed his eyes with a meaning look on Louise--“no matter when, or in what way, you come to them, your place is made ready for you. You may not like them, you know: the governor is getting to be an old man--perhaps too old for young Americans--but THEY will like YOU, and you must put up with that. My mother and sisters know Miss Macy as well as I do, and will make her one of the family.” The conscientious earnestness with which these apparent conventionalities were uttered, and some occult quality of quiet conviction in the young man's manner, brought a pleasant sparkle to the eyes of Mrs. Bradley and Louise. “But,” said Mrs. Bradley, gayly, “our going to England is quite beyond our present wildest dreams; nothing but a windfall, an unexpected rise in timber, or even the tabooed hotel speculation, could make it possible.” “But I shall take the liberty of trying to present it to Mr. Bradley tonight in some practical way that may convince even his critical judgment,” said Mainwaring, still seriously. “It will be,” he added more lightly, “the famous testimonial of my cure which I promised you.” “And you will find Mr. Bradley so sceptical that you will be obliged to defer your going,” said Mrs. Bradley, triumphantly. “Come, Louise, we must not forget that we have still Mr. Mainwaring's present comfort to look after; that Minty has basely deserted us, and that we ourselves must see that the last days of our guest beneath our roof are not remembered for their privation.” She led Louise away with a half-mischievous suggestion of maternal propriety, and left Mainwaring once more alone on the veranda.