"Permit me to express my very great obligations," said the artist. "Might I venture so far as to ask your leave to take one sketch inside? I have been told there is a fine carved oak staircase"-- "Come and dine with me," replied the Squire, heartily, "and sketch the staircase by all means. We dine at twelve o'clock--old-fashioned folks, Mr.----I have not the pleasure"-- "Stevens, Sir--Cuthbert Stevens, at your service--and very much"-- "Ah! odd name, Cuthbert, but an old name--yes, a good old name. To-morrow at twelve, Mr. Stevens--very glad to see you." And away rode the hospitable and unsuspicious man, leaving on the face of Cuthbert Stevens a look of amused contempt. "'Moonstruck!'" he whispered to himself. "We shall see which is the cleverer, John Passmore, Esquire--we shall see." "Lucy, my dear," said the Squire to his wife when he came in, "I have asked a gentleman to dinner to-morrow;--a painter--making sketches for Sir Godfrey Kneller--monstrous clever fellow!--take your portrait in no time--wants to draw the Hall." When the Squire conveyed his information in this abrupt and detached style, Madam Passmore knew from experience that he was not altogether satisfied with his own act, and desired to justify himself in his own eyes. He was, in truth, beginning to feel rather uneasy. Though he called the artist a "monstrous clever fellow," he had not seen a single sketch; he had taken the man on his own word, and at his own valuation; he had yielded to the charm of his voice and manner; and now that this was withdrawn, he began to doubt whether he had done well in introducing a complete stranger into the bosom of his family. So Madam Passmore, seeing this, and also acting on her favorite maxim of "what must be, must," quietly said, "Very well, John," and left her husband to his own devices.