He looked at the carpet. “I have seen so little of her,” he said. “And I daresay you are a man of property?” “I am independent.” “Well, well, there it is.” Miss Sibson smoothed out the lap of her silk dress. “I do not think,” he said, in some embarrassment, “that five minutes’ talk would hurt her.” “Umph!” He laughed—an awkward laugh. “Come, Miss Sibson,” he said. “Let us have the five minutes, and let us both have the chance.” She looked out of the window, and rubbed her glasses reflectively. “Well,” she said at length, as if she had not quite made up her mind, “I will be quite frank with you, Mr. Vaughan. I did not intend to be so, but you have met me half-way, and I believe you to be a gentleman. The truth is, I should not have gone as far with you as I have unless”—she looked at him suddenly—“I had had a character of you.” “Of me?” he cried in astonishment. “Yes.” “From Miss Smith?” Miss Sibson smiled at his simplicity. “Oh, no,” she said; “you are going to see the character.” And with that the schoolmistress drew from her workbox a small slip of paper, which she unfolded and gave to him. “It is from the lady,” she said, “who made use of you yesterday.” He took it in much astonishment. On the inner side of the paper, which was faintly scented, he read a dozen words in a fine handwriting: “Mary Smith, from her fairy godmother. The bearer may be trusted.” Vaughan stared at the paper in undiminished surprise. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Who is the lady, and what does she know of me?” “I cannot tell you, nor can Miss Smith,” Miss Sibson replied. “Who, indeed, has seen her only twice or thrice, at long intervals, and has not heard her name. But Miss Smith’s education—she has never known her parents—was defrayed, I presume, by this godmother. And once a year Miss Smith has been in the habit of receiving a gift, of some value to a young person in her position, accompanied by a few words in that handwriting.” Vaughan stared. “And,” he said, “you draw the inference that—that——” “I draw no inference,” Miss Sibson replied drily, “save that I have authority from—shall I say her godmother—to trust you farther than I should have trusted you. That is the only inference I draw. But I have one thing to add,” she continued. “Miss Smith did not enter my employment in an ordinary way. My late assistant left me abruptly. While I was at a loss an attorney of character in this city called on me and said that a client desired to place a young person in safe hands; that she was a trained teacher, and must live by teaching, but that care was necessary, since she was very young, and had more than her share of good looks. He hinted, Mr. Vaughan, at the inference which you, I believe, have already drawn. And—and that is all.” Vaughan looked thoughtfully at the carpet. Miss Sibson waited awhile. At last: “The point is,” she said shrewdly, “do you still wish to have the five minutes?”