A servant-maid of some personal attractions immediately opened the
door, and seemed to regard the secretary with no unkind eyes.
"This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur," said Harry.
"I know," replied the maid, with a nod. "But the gentleman is from
home. Will you leave it with me?"
"I cannot," answered Harry. "I am directed not to part with it but
upon a certain condition, and I must ask you, I am afraid, to let
me wait."
"Well," said she, "I suppose I may let you wait. I am lonely
enough, I can tell you, and you do not look as though you would eat
a girl. But be sure and do not ask the gentleman's name, for that
I am not to tell you."
"Do you say so?" cried Harry. "Why, how strange! But indeed for
some time back I walk among surprises. One question I think I may
surely ask without indiscretion: Is he the master of this house?"
"He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that," returned the
maid. "And now a question for a question: Do you know lady
Vandeleur?"
"I am her private secretary," replied Harry with a glow of modest
pride.
"She is pretty, is she not?" pursued the servant.
"Oh, beautiful!" cried Harry; "wonderfully lovely, and not less
good and kind!"
"You look kind enough yourself," she retorted; "and I wager you are
worth a dozen Lady Vandeleurs."
Harry was properly scandalised.
"I!" he cried. "I am only a secretary!"
"Do you mean that for me?" said the girl.
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