“Mr. Skaats is custodian of the City Hall, and this delightful old couple often entertain the judges, lawyers, and the councilmen at their dinner table; on which is always found the Hollandish dishes we are so rapidly forgetting. Your uncle occasionally dines with them, and would do so more frequently if his own home was not so convenient. You must ask him to take you to see these dear old Dutch people; or I dare say Sappha knows them. Soon they will only be a pleasant memory.” “I do not need to go and see the Skaats for a pleasant Dutch memory. There is no finer Dutchwoman in the world than my grandmother, Madame Jonaca Bloommaert.” Madame was gratified at this compliment, and, perhaps, in order to return the pleasure, or else for the sake of changing the subject, she said: “Mr. St. Ange will be here in the morning--but I do not think it is necessary to warm the best parlour.” “No, no, grandmother. Our sitting-room is far more distinguished. The best parlour is like a great many parlours; our sitting-room has a character--a most respectable one. I could see that he was impressed by it. I dare say he will soon know Sappha, and of course he will fall in love with her, and then there will be some interest in watching how Leonard Murray will like that.” “Well, then, keep yourself clear; see, and hear, and say nothing; that is wise.” “But I like to meddle--a little bit. I wonder if Leonard and Sappha are really engaged! Leonard might have come in and sat an hour with us; I expected so much courtesy from him. But no! though I told him we were so lonely in the evenings, he never offered to spend a little time with us. I dare say he returned at once to the Bowling Green. I saw him say a word or two to Sappha as he left, and she smiled and nodded, and I am very sure he was asking her permission to return.” “Such nonsense! He would have asked your aunt that question.” “Oh, the question is nothing! any question meant the same thing. I have no doubt at all, Leonard is at this moment with Sappha. They will be pretending to help aunt Carlita, but then helping her will mean pleasing themselves.” But for once Annette’s sensibility, though so selfishly acute, was not correct. Leonard did not return to the Bowling Green, and Sappha was disappointed and hurt by his failure to do so. For an hour she sat with her mother before the fire, expecting every moment to hear his footsteps. And this expectation was so intense that she was frequently certain of their approach--his light rapid tread, his way of mounting the steps two at a time--both these sounds were repeated again and again upon her sensitive ear drum, and yet Leonard came not. Alas, what heart-watcher has not been tormented by these spectral promises? for the ears have their phantoms as well as the eyes. At last she reluctantly gave up hope, and as she lit her night candle she said in a tone of affected cheerfulness: “I suppose Leonard would stay an hour or two with grandmother and Annette.”