What an absurd question, to one in his frame of mind! "Well, really, it is such a very small matter," he began, examining his hat attentively. Then he glanced up at her again, and smiled: "I only wanted to--to make an apology." "An apology!" echoed Blanche, becoming rather more distant. "Oh, dear! I'm very sorry, I'm sure. I didn't know there'd been any trouble." She began to look anxious, and turned her eyes upon the smouldering fire in the grate. So this was to be the end of her pleasant, cheerful reveries about this nice young man. And the reveries had been more frequent than she had been aware of until now. "There has been no trouble," he assured her, eagerly. "Just a little mistake that occurred; and, in fact, I was hardly responsible for it." Blanche's eyes began to twinkle with a new and amusing interpretation. "Ah!" she cried, "are you the gentleman who--" Then she stopped short. Crombie was placed in an unexpected embarrassment. How could he possibly drag into his conversation with this lovely young creature so commonplace and vulgar a subject as shoe-leather! Ignoring her unfinished question, he asked: "Do you know, Miss Littimer, whether the--a--one of the servants here has brought up anything for your father--that is, a parcel, a--" "A pair of shoes?" Blanche broke in, her eyes dancing, while her lips parted in a smile. "Yes, yes; that's what I meant." "They came up just after dinner," Blanche returned. "Then you _are_ the gentleman." "I'm afraid I am," Crombie owned, and they both laughed. Blanche quietly, and with no apparent intention, resumed her chair; and this time Crombie took a seat without waiting to be invited again. Thus they fell to talking in the friendliest way. "I can't imagine what has become of papa," said Blanche. "He sent word, in the most mysterious manner, that he had an engagement; and it is so unusual! Perhaps it's something about the new house he's building--up-town, you know. Dear me! it does make so much trouble, and I don't believe I shall like it half as well as these little, cosey rooms." The little, cosey rooms were as the abode of giants compared with Crombie's contracted quarters; but he drew comfort from what she said, thinking how such sentiments might make it possible to win even so unattainable an heiress into some modest home of his own. "You don't know till you try it," he replied. "Just think of having a place all to yourself, belonging to you." Blanche lifted her eyebrows, and a little sigh escaped her. She was reflecting, perhaps, that a place all to herself would be rather lonely. "You have never met my father?" she asked. "No. I have seen him." "Well, I think you will like him when you know him." "I don't doubt it!" Crombie exclaimed with fervor, worshiping the very furniture that surrounded Blanche. "I hope we may become better acquainted." "Only I think, Mr. Crombie, he will owe you an apology now." "Why?" "For keeping your shoes out so late."