Mr. Wragg visited him again after breakfast, but with great foresight only put his head in at the door, while Miss Miller remained outside in case of need. In these circumstances Mr. Gale met his anxious inquiries with a sullen silence, and the other, tired at last of baiting him, turned to go. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, with a grin. “I’m just going out to tell folks ’ow you’re getting on. There’s a lot of ’em anxious.” He was as good as his word, and Mr. Gale, peeping from the window, raged helplessly as little knots of neighbors stood smiling up at the house. Unable to endure it any longer he returned to bed, resolving to wait until night came, and then drop from the window and run home in a blanket. The smell of dinner was almost painful, but he made no sign. Mr. Wragg in high good humor smoked a pipe after his meal, and then went out again. The house was silent except for the occasional movements of the girl below. Then there was a sudden tap at his door. “Well?” said Mr. Gale. The door opened and, hardly able to believe his eyes, he saw his clothes thrown into the room. Hunger was forgotten, and he almost smiled as he hastily dressed himself. The smile vanished as he thought of the people in the streets, and in a thoughtful fashion he made his way slowly downstairs. The bright face of Miss Miller appeared at the parlor door. “Better?” she smiled. Mr. Gale reddened and, drawing himself up stiffly, made no reply. “That’s polite,” said the girl, indignantly. “After giving you your clothes, too. What do you think my uncle will say to me? He was going to keep you here till Friday.” Mr. Gale muttered an apology. “I’ve made a fool of myself,” he added. Miss Miller nodded cheerfully. “Are you hungry?” she inquired. The other drew himself up again. “Because there is some nice cold beef left,” said the girl, glancing into the room. Mr. Gale started and, hardly able to believe in his good fortune, followed her inside. In a very short time the cold beef was a thing of the past, and the young man, toying with his beer-glass, sat listening to a lecture on his behavior couched in the severest terms his hostess could devise. “You’ll be the laughing-stock of the place,” she concluded. “I shall go away,” he said, gloomily. “I shouldn’t do that,” said the girl, with a judicial air; “live it down.” “I shall go away,” repeated Mr. Gale, decidedly. “I shall ship for a deep-sea voyage.” Miss Miller sighed. “It’s too bad,” she said, slowly; “perhaps you wouldn’t look so foolish if—” “If what?” inquired the other, after a long pause. “If,” said Miss Miller, looking down, “if—if—” Mr. Gale started and trembled violently, as a wild idea, born of her blushes, occurred to him. “If,” he said, in quivering tones, “if—if—” “Go on,” said the girl, softly. “Why, I got as far as that: and you are a man.” Mr. Gale’s voice became almost inaudible. “If we got married, do you mean?” he said, at last.