receipted bill; and when she said she was sorry he was going, he replied that he could not stand the table any longer, and that he believed that French cook of hers had died on the way over; he was tired of the Nova Scotia temporary, who had become permanent. A gentleman waited for the parting guest to be gone, and then said to the tranquil Mrs. Harmon: “So Mellen has kicked, has he?” “Yes, Mr. Evans,” said Mrs. Harmon; “Mr. Mellen has kicked.” “And don't you want to abuse him a little? You can to me, you know,” suggested the gentleman. He had a full beard, parted at the chin; it was almost white, and looked older than the rest of his face; his eyes were at once sad and whimsical. Lemuel tried to think where he had seen him before. “Thank you; I don't know as it would do any good, Mr. Evans. But if he could have waited one week longer, I should have had that cook.” “Yes, that is what I firmly believe. Do you feel too much broken up to accept a ticket to the Wednesday matinée at the Museum?” “No, I don't,” said Mrs. Harmon. “But I shouldn't want to deprive Mrs. Evans of it.” “Oh, she wouldn't go,” said Mr. Evans, with a slight sigh. “You had better take it. Jefferson's going to do _Bob Acres_.” “Is that so?” asked Mrs. Harmon placidly, taking the ticket. “Well, I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans, Mr. Barker--our new clerk,” she said, introducing them. Lemuel rose with rustic awkwardness, and shook hands with Mr. Evans, who looked at him with a friendly smile, but said nothing. “Now Mr. Barker is here, I guess I can get the time.” Mr. Evans said, well, he was glad she could, and went out of the street door. “He's just one of the nicest gentlemen I've got,” continued Mrs. Harmon, following him with her eye as far as she conveniently could without turning her head, “him and his wife both. Ever heard of the _Saturday Afternoon_?” “I don't know as I have,” said Lemuel. “Well, he's one of the editors. It's a kind of a Sunday paper, I guess, for all it don't come out that day. I presume he could go every night in the week to every theatre in town, if he wanted to. I don't know how many tickets he's give me. Some of the ladies seem to think he's always makin' fun of them; but I can't ever feel that way. He used to board with a great friend of mine, him and his wife. They've been with me now ever since Mrs. Hewitt died; she was the one they boarded with before. They say he used to be dreadful easygoing, 'n' 't his wife was all 't saved him. But I guess he's different now. Well, I must go out and see after the lunch. You watch the office, and say just what I told you before.” XIV. Sewell chanced to open his door to go out just as Miss Vane put her hand on the bell-pull, the morning after she had dismissed Lemuel. The cheer of his Monday face died out at the unsmiling severity of hers; but he contrived to ask her in, and said he would call Mrs. Sewell, if she would sit down in the reception-room a moment.