Myra and her mother exchanged glances. A faint crimson broke over the elder lady’s face, and the young girl looked a little puzzled. “Why, papa, how strangely you talk. This gentleman knows you well; he is a member of the legislature, and his seat is close by yours in the house,” said Myra. “Nonsense, child; there is but one man of my name in the house, and he has not been absent from Harrisburg a day during the session; besides, he has not a white hair in his head, and never carries small Bibles with gold clasps to exhibit to young ladies. You have had some impostor here. What did the interesting gentleman want?” “He had lost a portmanteau that contained his money and clothes,” faltered Myra. “All but the little Bible!” cried her father with a laugh. “And so,” continued the young girl, blushing, “as he was a friend of yours and out of money, he only desired mamma to advance him a small sum.” “And she did it—I’ll be sworn she did it!” cried Mr. D., enjoying the blushes of his wife. “The scoundrel carried off my wife’s purse and my daughter’s heart at one fell swoop.” “It was not much, only twenty-four dollars,” said the lady struggling to bear up against her husband’s raillery. “But I—I told him he could have fifty just as well,” said Myra, joining in her father’s laugh; “who could suspect him with his gentle manners—” “And little Bible?” interrupted Mr. D. “And gray hairs? Indeed, papa, it was worth the money to be cheated so gracefully. You have no idea with what an air the man took his leave—the tears absolutely stood in his eyes.” “The fellow was a fool not to take your fifty dollars, Myra, that is all I have to say about him—so now on with your list. What other interesting stranger have you entertained in my absence?” Myra hesitated, her eyes drooped for an instant, and the damask of her cheek deepened to crimson. For the first time in her life she felt embarrassed in the presence of her father. What if papa should pronounce _him_ an impostor also? she thought; and her heart was in a glow at the very idea. She felt that the eyes of her father were fixed on her inquiringly, and this deepened her confusion. “We have received one other stranger here,” she said at length, making an effort to look up; “a very talented and agreeable gentleman, whom I met by accident when out on an excursion.” “Indeed; and who is he?” inquired Mr. D. in a grave tone, and casting a glance at his wife that had a shade of displeasure in it. “He seems a most estimable young man, full of talent and generous feeling,” said Mrs. D., anxious to save her child from the embarrassment of an answer. “He _seems_—who is he?” demanded the husband; his voice was stern and his look suspicious. “Myra, who is this man?” “His name is Whitney,” replied the young girl, resuming something of her natural courage. “I have made no further inquiries; but he is no impostor, papa, I am very sure of that.”