"I always had a passion for the lyric stage, and now there is nothing to prevent--" did a slight shadow here darken also her sunny eyes, gone instantly?-- "I shall make music my life's aim. Fortunately I have money of my own to enable me to study, and--" Miss Archer's speech was here interrupted in a somewhat startling manner, by the door suddenly flying open, banging against the piano with a prodigious crash, and disclosing Quimby, red and abashed, outside. Nattie jumped, Miss Archer gave a little scream, and the Duchess, Mrs. Simonson's handsome tortoise-shell cat, so named from her extreme dignity, who lay at full length upon a rug, drew herself up in haughty displeasure. "I--I beg pardon, I am sure!" stammered the more agitated intruder. "Really, I--I am so ashamed I--I can hardly speak! I was unfortunate enough to stumble--I'm used to it, you know,--and I give you my word of honor I never saw such a--such an extremely lively door!" "It is of no consequence," Miss Archer assured him. "Will you come in?" "Thank you, I--I fear I intrude," answered Quimby, clutching his watch-chain, and glancing at Nattie, guiltily conscious of the strong desire to do so that had taken possession of him since the sound of her voice had penetrated to his apartment, and in perfect agony lest she should surmise it. However, upon Miss Archer's assuring him that they would be very glad of his company, he ventured to enter. But the door still weighed upon his mind, for after carefully closing it, he stood and stared at it with a very perplexed face. "Never saw such a lively door, you know!" he repeated, finally sitting down on the piano-stool, and folding both arms across one knee, letting a hand droop dismally on either side, while he looked alternately at Miss Archer, Nattie, and the part of the room mentioned, at which the former laughed, and then, with the kind intention of drawing his mind from the subject of his forced appearance, suggested a game of cards. "Then we shall have to have one more person, shall we not?" Nattie asked, at this proposition. "It would be better," replied Miss Archer. "Let me see--Mrs. Simonson does not play--" "Mr. Norton does!" interrupted Quimby, forgetting the door, in his eagerness to be of service. "I--I would willingly ask him to join us, if you will allow me!" "That queer young artist who lodges here, you mean?" inquired Miss Archer. "Oh! But he is a dreadful Bohemian!" commented Nattie, distrustfully, before Quimby could reply. "Is he?" laughed Miss Archer. "Then ask him in by all means! I am something of a Bohemian myself, and shall be delighted to meet a kindred soul! I do not know as I have ever observed the gentleman particularly, but if I remember rightly, he wears his hair very closely cropped, and is not a model of beauty?"