sionally tells the truth by mistake. Next day (which means to-day) I learned this through bitter experience. Nothing had happened, and when I presented myself to Miss Randolph in the morning for orders, her manner was so pleasant, so exactly the same as usual, that I made sure Mr. Payne had chosen the better part of valour and held his peace. Evening came, however; my mistress sent for me, as I was informed through the invaluable hall-porter. Coward conscience, or some other intricate internal organ, gave a twinge. I asked myself blankly if I had been betrayed, if I were in for a scolding, if I should have to choose between being ignominiously chucked out of my precious berth, or prematurely owning up to the trick I have played, with the consequent risk of losing my lady forever. I felt pretty sick as I went up the servants' stairs to Miss Randolph's floor at the "Gassisn" and knocked at the door of her private sitting-room.
The door was on the latch, and as I tapped I heard Aunt Mary exclaim in a tone of extreme scorn, "Ask him 'if he objects,' indeed! One would think you were the servant and he the master. You shall do nothing of the kind."
My knocking evidently cut short the argument. Miss Randolph called "Come in!" and I obeyed, all black leather and humility. I hardly raised my eyes to the ladies, yet I saw that She was looking adorable in a white dress, with nothing but sparkling lacey stuff over the loveliest neck and arms on earth. She smiled, so I hoped that my sin had not found me out, but it was not precisely one of her own frank, starry
