"Jimmie's th' great man," he muttered to himself as he closed the door--"he's th' great man, mixin' wid men like Misther Robert; but he hadn't oughter wear that sorry rag an' th' ravens, wid me, his only livin' relation, still livin'." The bell rang almost immediately, and Riley, certain that James had returned, hastened to throw the door open. As he did so, he discovered Allen Sanford. "Who's that undertaker person?" Allen demanded. Riley straightened perceptibly. "'Tis me son James, Misther Sanford, an' it's th' great man he is, an' no undertaker." "I beg your pardon, Riley," Allen laughed, noting the old man's injured dignity. "Of course I should have known; but I may want to employ an undertaker soon, so I suppose I had it on my mind." "Ain't ye falin' well, Misther Allen?" Riley asked, anxiously. "Oh, I don't want him for myself," Allen laughed again. "Is Miss Alice in?" "How do I know 'til she tells me, sor?" "All right; you'll have to ask her then, won't you? If she is in, tell her that I've called to have tea with her." Alice was in particularly high spirits. She had digested Covington's proposal, and found that she enjoyed it. She was still waiting for a chance to discuss it with Eleanor and her father, but she experienced an unexpected amount of pleasure in thinking it over by herself. She had already decided that she would take plenty of time before she gave her answer. The sensation was so exhilarating that she was unwilling to shorten its duration. It was all so incredible that she--little she--should have attracted a man of Mr. Covington's calibre to the extent that he should actually want to marry her! And now Allen had called, giving her an outlet for this unusual buoyancy. Her caller was not blind to the excitement which showed in Alice's face, and the formalities were scarcely over before he asked the question which brought a violent color to the girl's cheeks. "So it's come, has it--just as I said it would?" "What has come?" Alice busied herself with the teacups which the butler had already placed on the little table in front of her, and appeared to be mystified, though she knew well what he meant. "That doesn't surprise me any," Allen continued, "but I really didn't think it would set you up so much when it did strike." "I suppose you are enjoying this monologue," she replied. "Don't mind me if it gives you any pleasure." "Look here, Alice"--he became desperate--"why can't we talk it over without having to jump all these high hurdles? I know you don't care anything about me, and you know that I can't see anything in life worth while except you, so the situation is clear on both sides. But I can't let that four-flusher pull the wool over your eyes without saying, 'Beware of the dog.' I shouldn't be a man if I did."