Another hour had almost elapsed ere her suspense was ended. Mr. Heriton came in, rubbing his hands and complaining of the cold, but evidently in the highest possible spirits. “What a wretched fire you keep, my love! Ring for more coals! Is dinner ready? Have I kept you waiting?” “A little, sir. I should have been very uneasy about you if one of our neighbors had not kindly assured me of your safety.” Mr. Heriton lifted his eyebrows. “Rather impertinent, I think, of such people to trouble themselves about our affairs! We must get out of this miserable hole, my love, as soon as we can. It is scarcely respectable.” He took his seat at the table without waiting for a reply, and began uncovering the dishes. “Nothing but a sole and hashed mutton! Do you call this a dinner?” Florence colored painfully. “Dear papa, I reminded you a week ago that my housekeeping purse was empty, and Mrs. Jones is--is dissatisfied at the length of our bill.” She did not add that she had sold a pair of pearl bracelets to quiet the woman with a partial payment. Mr. Heriton frowned angrily. “You must be a very bad manager. However, I shall engage a thorough housekeeper as soon as we leave here, and then there will be a prospect of having a meal fit to sit down to. Why are there no wineglasses here?” he asked of the girl who waited. She answered rather saucily that it worn’t no use to put them if there worn’t no wine to drink out of them; and missus said she shouldn’t order no more till the last dozen was paid for. “Quit the room!” Mr. Heriton exclaimed, with dignity. “And tell your mistress to send me her account in the morning. I shall seek other apartments!” The girl, who had gone through many such scenes, and only refrained from a pert answer for Florence’s sake, flounced away, and the father and daughter finished their meal in silence. Florence longed to know what had happened to detain him, but feared to ask, till, as he drew his chair to the fire, he put his arm lovingly across her shoulder. “My darling, you look pale and thin, and your dresses are shabby; but I shall alter all this soon, and my pretty heiress shall take her proper place in society again. Who do you think I have seen to-day?” “I am a miserable guesser. Pray tell me, papa.” “Have you forgotten Lady Mason, an acquaintance of your poor mother?” “Forgotten her! Oh, no, sir! A tall, thin, serious lady, whose grave looks used to make me dislike her, until mamma explained that they were occasioned by the bad conduct of her only son, who was a very profligate man.” Mr. Heriton stirred the fire vigorously. “Pooh! Nonsense! Robert Mason is no Puritan, but he’s a remarkably clever fellow; a citizen of the world, child, with a marvelous faculty for business. He is the secretary of a company that is the most prosperous and best-managed one in London.” “Indeed, sir?” said Florence doubtfully.