"Is there a bar? Will it lock?" asked Harry, while a salvo on the
knocker made the house echo from wall to wall.
"Why, what is wrong with you?" asked the maid. "Is it this old
gentleman?"
"If he gets hold of me," whispered Harry, "I am as good as dead.
He has been pursuing me all day, carries a sword-stick, and is an
Indian military officer."
"These are fine manners," cried the maid. "And what, if you
please, may be his name?"
"It is the General, my master," answered Harry. "He is after this
bandbox."
"Did not I tell you?" cried the maid in triumph. "I told you I
thought worse than nothing of your Lady Vandeleur; and if you had
an eye in your head you might see what she is for yourself. An
ungrateful minx, I will be bound for that!"
The General renewed his attack upon the knocker, and his passion
growing with delay, began to kick and beat upon the panels of the
door.
"It is lucky," observed the girl, "that I am alone in the house;
your General may hammer until he is weary, and there is none to
open for him. Follow me!"
So saying she led Harry into the kitchen, where she made him sit
down, and stood by him herself in an affectionate attitude, with a
hand upon his shoulder. The din at the door, so far from abating,
continued to increase in volume, and at each blow the unhappy
secretary was shaken to the heart.
"What is your name?" asked the girl.
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