Yet Frank no more liked his work at the Bank now than he had liked it when a youth of sixteen, although that was a fact which he confided to no one's ear but his mother's. He hated banking and everything connected with it, save and except the drawing of his salary at the close of each month. He was not without a certain amount of surface cleverness, together with a degree of tact which had in it an element of cunning; and by the aid of these, in combination with a frankly audacious manner and a handsome presence, he contrived to throw dust in the eyes of most people, and to pass for a much cleverer fellow than he was. He was not brought much into personal contact with Mr. Avison, who seemed, indeed, for reasons best known to himself, to keep aloof from him of set purpose; and as to how far his shallow pretensions to business ability were accurately gauged by Mr. Howes, was best known by Mr. Howes himself. In any case, the new managing clerk treated Frank with much consideration, not unmixed with a finely shaded measure of deference; but it may have been that the astute old official was not without his suspicions that Master Frank might one day sit in the curule chair of authority at the Bank. Although Mrs. Derison had lived in Ashdown for several years she had but few acquaintances and no intimates, consequently the virtue of hospitality was one which she was rarely called upon to exercise. Now and then one or two lady visitors of her own age would call and would be invited to stay for tea, but that was all; while it was only on rare occasions that she visited anywhere herself. Frank had, therefore, every reason for feeling surprised when his mother said to him one evening: "I want you to give up your bedroom for a few weeks, and change into the back room. We are about to have a visitor." "Good gracious! mother. It must be somebody important, or you would not want me to budge." "It is your half-cousin, Mildred Dixon. I have invited her to stay for a month, and she has agreed to do so." "Wonders will never cease," said the mystified Frank. "You have not forgotten her I hope." "Not a bit of it, though it must be seven or eight years since I saw her last. But what is your object in inviting her, if I may make so bold as to ask?" "My object is that you should make love to her, propose to her, and by-and-bye make her your wife." Frank stared aghast at his mother. "Have you taken leave of your senses, _madre mia?_" he asked, after a pause. "I have no reason to think so, my son." "I marry Mildred Dixon! The notion is too utterly preposterous. In the first place she's six years older than I am. Then she's awfully freckled, and wears spectacles, and has a squat figure. I'd as soon marry my grandmother, if the old lady were alive." "What have either her looks or her age to do with the affair? Miss Dixon is both accomplished and amiable, and has, in addition, a fortune of twenty thousand pounds."