“Ah, well, we'll soon set you up, my dear. This is the place to make a good job of you, if ever there was one. But where have you been staying since you landed, Miriam? It's upwards of twenty-four hours now.” The guest smiled. “Ah, that's tellings. With some people who came out with me—some swells that I knew in the West End, if you particularly want to know; not that I'm much nuts on 'em, either.” “Don't you be inquisitive, father,” broke in John William from the sofa. It was his first remark since he had sat down. “Well, perhaps I mustn't bother you with any more questions now,” said Mr. Teesdale to the girl; “but I shall have a hundred to ask you later on. To think that you're Mr. Oliver's daughter after all! Ay, and I see a look of your mother and all now and then. They did well to send you out to us, and get you right away from them late hours and that nasty society—though here comes one that'll want you to tell her all about that by-and-by.” The person in question was Arabella, who had just re-entered. “Society?” said she. “My word, yes, I shall want you to tell me all about society, Miriam.” “Do you hear that, Miriam?” said Mr. Teesdale after some moments. She had taken no notice. “What's that? Oh yes, I heard; but I shan't tell anybody anything more unless you all stop calling me Miriam.” This surprised them; it had the air of a sudden thought as suddenly spoken. “But Miriam's your name,” said Arabella, laughing. “Your father has never spoken of you as anything else,” remarked Mr. Teesdale. “All the same, I'm not used to being called by it,” replied their visitor, who for the first time was exhibiting signs of confusion. “I like people to call me what I'm accustomed to being called. You may say it's a pet name, but it's what I'm used to, and I like it best.” “What is, missy?” said old Teesdale kindly; for the girl was staring absently at the opposite wall. “Tell us, and we'll call you nothing else,” Arabella promised. The girl suddenly swept her eyes from the wall to Mr. Teesdale's inquiring face. “You said it just now,” she told him, with a nod and her brightest smile. “You said it without knowing when you called me 'Missy.' That's what they always call me at home—Missy or the Miss. You pays your money and you takes your choice.” “Then I choose Missy,” said Arabella. “And now, father, I came with a message from my mother; she wants you to take Missy out into the verandah while we get the tea ready. She wasn't tidy enough to come and see you at once, Missy, but she sends you her love to go on with, and she hopes that you'll excuse her.” “Of course she will,” answered Mr. Teesdale for the girl; “but will you excuse me, Missy, if I bring my pipe out with me? I'm just wearying for a smoke.” “Excuse you?” cried Missy, taking the old man's arm as she accompanied him to the door. “Why, bless your life, I love a smoke myself.” John William had jumped up to follow them; had hesitated; and was left behind.