“This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur,” said Harry. “I know,” replied the maid, with a nod. “But the gentleman is from home. Will you leave it with me?” “I cannot,” answered Harry. “I am directed not to part with it but upon a certain condition, and I must ask you, I am afraid, to let me wait.” “Well,” said she, “I suppose I may let you wait. I am lonely enough, I can tell you, and you do not look as though you would eat a girl. But be sure and do not ask the gentleman’s name, for that I am not to tell you.” “Do you say so?” cried Harry. “Why, how strange! But indeed for some time back I walk among surprises. One question I think I may surely ask without indiscretion: Is he the master of this house?” “He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that,” returned the maid. “And now a question for a question: Do you know lady Vandeleur?” “I am her private secretary,” replied Harry with a glow of modest pride. “She is pretty, is she not?” pursued the servant. “Oh, beautiful!” cried Harry; “wonderfully lovely, and not less good and kind!” “You look kind enough yourself,” she retorted; “and I wager you are worth a dozen Lady Vandeleurs.” Harry was properly scandalised. “I!” he cried. “I am only a secretary!” “Do you mean that for me?” said the girl. “Because I am only a housemaid, if you please.” And then, relenting at the sight of Harry’s obvious confusion, “I know you mean nothing of the sort,” she added; “and I like your looks; but I think nothing of your Lady Vandeleur. Oh, these mistresses!” she cried. “To send out a real gentleman like you—with a bandbox—in broad day!” During this talk they had remained in their original positions—she on the doorstep, he on the side-walk, bareheaded for the sake of coolness, and with the bandbox on his arm. But upon this last speech Harry, who was unable to support such point-blank compliments to his appearance, nor the encouraging look with which they were accompanied, began to change his attitude, and glance from left to right in perturbation. In so doing he turned his face towards the lower end of the lane, and there, to his indescribable dismay, his eyes encountered those of General Vandeleur. The General, in a prodigious fluster of heat, hurry, and indignation, had been scouring the streets in chase of his brother-in-law; but so soon as he caught a glimpse of the delinquent secretary, his purpose changed, his anger flowed into a new channel, and he turned on his heel and came tearing up the lane with truculent gestures and vociferations. Harry made but one bolt of it into the house, driving the maid before him; and the door was slammed in his pursuer’s countenance. “Is there a bar? Will it lock?” asked Harry, while a salvo on the knocker made the house echo from wall to wall. “Why, what is wrong with you?” asked the maid. “Is it this old gentleman?”