Briggs stood for a moment thinking. Then he said, with two fingers on his lips: “You tell Sam to drive down right off and bring Mr. West up here. Tell him to bring Mr. West’s luggage, too, and ask him to say to Mr. West that there’s a room all ready for him, as usual. This is a funny time for him to stand on ceremony with me.” Michael started to go out; then turned back. “I suppose yer didn’t know Miss Fanny came last night, sir.” “I thought she wasn’t coming till next week.” “She arrived last night, sir, at nine o’clock. She sat up for yer, sir, till she fell asleep in the chair, and Mrs. Briggs made her go to bed.” “Good girl,” said Briggs. “I suppose she hasn’t come down yet.” “No, sir.” A half-hour later Briggs heard the rustle of skirts outside the study door. Then the door opened softly. He went on busily writing. Light steps crossed to the chair behind him. “Ahem!” “Oh, hello, Fanny!” he said, without looking up. “How did you know it was me?” cried Fanny, in a tone of disappointment. Briggs leaned back in his chair and received an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Well, I don’t know anyone else who’d steal in just like that.” “Michael told you, didn’t he?” “Perhaps.” “He didn’t want to let me come in.” Fanny sat on the edge of the desk. “He said you were busy. You--_busy_!” Douglas Briggs smiled. “Well, I don’t seem to be busy whenever you’re around, do I? Still, I have to do a little work now and then.” “I think there’s too much work in the world,” Fanny pouted. “Now there’s poor Guy. Think how he works!” “Guy! Why, at this minute he’s sound asleep, and it’s nearly ten o’clock.” “But think how he worked at that old nomination meeting of yours! He didn’t get home till nearly morning.” “Well, I didn’t, either.” “But you’re tough, Uncle Doug; Guy is delicate.” “They generally are, at his age,” Briggs acknowledged, dryly, “especially when they have just come out of college.” “I think you’re horrid to say such things about Guy, when he helps you so, too. I’ve just been up to see him.” Briggs sat back in his chair. “W-h-hat!” he exclaimed. “Oh, you needn’t be shocked! I just _peeked_ in. He was sound asleep, with his head resting on one hand, just like this, and the sweetest little blush on his face, and his hair in the cunningest little bang on his forehead. I was so relieved about one thing.” “What’s that?” Fanny looked stealthily around the room. “He doesn’t snore!” she said, with her hand over her mouth. “Oh! But suppose he had snored?” Fanny slid from the desk and drew herself up. “Then, of course, I should have been obliged to--well, to break the----” “Do you mean to say there’s an engagement between you two?” Fanny held her hand over her uncle’s lips. “’Sh! No, not that. What would dad say if he heard you? Only he’s been writing me the loveliest letters this Summer. M’m!”