My Master. 69

the rain, I had wrapped an old shawl round and
round me—lI did not possess a greatcoat of any
kind—and I have no doubt that I must have looked
a very quecr little figure indeed.

 

“No, sir!” repeated the landlady. “Why, you
said you did, onty now just !”

“Yes, ma'am,” I cried. “I only meant—— I
did not mean-——~ Please, sir, it’s from Miss
Churchill.”

“Ah, ah! I comprehend. He is the little boy she
spoke of,” said the old gentleman. “ Will he come
in, my dear?” And, coming three steps down to
meet me on the stairs, he took the note from me,
and led the way into his sitting-room. Here he
first took off his hat and greatcoat, then tapped and
examined a slip of wood hung against the wall, the
use of which (it was a thermometer) puzzled me for
a long time after ; then he put one coal on the fire,
and at last proceeded to read the note, saying to
me as he opened it, “ Will he sit down ?”

I took the opportunity, while I thought I was not
noticed, to unwind myself from my big shawl, and
then hitched myself shyly against the edge of the
chair nearest to the door, and tried to recover from
the flurry into which that unfortunate bell-ringing
had thrown me as well as Mrs. Howells.

I cast stolen glances at my new master to sce