Miss Maynard possessed herself of the epistle, and while the Major was addressing the envelope, added a postscript of her own: "My Dear Jack, "You see, I call you Jack for once--my silly old uncle has made a goose of himself. Please, please come this instant to your own Em, because--I will not say I want to kiss you. It would be most unseemly in the afternoon. "Ever, ever your own "Em." This choice epistle, containing additions of which he was unconscious, the Major packed into an envelope, and, under Miss Maynard's supervision, dispatched to its destination by a maid. Then they went down, models of propriety, to luncheon. It was after that meal, when they were again in the drawing-room, that there came a knock at the street door. Steps were heard coming up the stairs. "It is he!" cried Miss Maynard, with that intuition bestowed upon true love preparing to receive him in her arms. Fortunately, however, he eluded her embrace, because the visitor happened to be Mr. Spooner. "Mr. Spooner!" cried Miss Maynard. "Miss--Miss Maynard," said Mr. Spooner, "I--I beg your pardon." "The Rev. William Spooner--Major Clifford." Miss Maynard introduced them. The gentlemen looked at each other. At least, the Major looked at Mr. Spooner. Mr. Spooner, after the first shy glance, seemed to be studying the pattern of the carpet. "With regard to the purport of your visit," went on Miss Maynard, using her finest dictionary words, "I have to place in your hands my resignation of the offices I have hitherto so unworthily held. With reference to the unfortunately mismanaged--er--book-keeping, to make that all right"--it was rather a comedown--"Major Clifford wishes to present you with a donation of," she paused, "of twenty-five guineas." "Fifty," growled the Major, much disgusted. "For goodness sake, make it fifty while you are about it!" "Just so," said Miss Maynard blandly. "The Major is particularly anxious to make it fifty guineas." The Major glared at her. If they had been alone, and the circumstances had been different, he would no doubt have given her a small piece of his mind. As it was--well, discretion is the better part of valour. Mr. Spooner began his speech: "I--I am sure we shall be very happy; I--I should say we shall exceedingly; that is, no doubt the donation is--is-- At the same time, Miss--Miss Maynard's services, though--though--" He went blundering on, Miss Maynard looking at him stonily, raising not a finger to his help. The Major took his bearings. He was a tall, thin young gentleman with a white face--which, however, was just now pinkish--white hair upon the top of his head, and a faint suspicion of more white hair upon his upper lip. It would have been cruel to apply assault and battery to one so innocent.