Claude Locker saw nothing of Miss Asher, but it was not long before the lady of the house came down-stairs.

“Oh, Mr. Locker,” she exclaimed, “I am so glad to see you!  Come into the library, please.”

He hesitated a minute.  “I beg your pardon,” said he, “but I have an appointment—­”

“I know that,” said she, “and you may be surprised to hear that it is with me and not with Miss Asher.  Come in and I will tell you about it.”

Claude Locker actually ran after his hostess into the library, both of his eyes wide open.

“And now,” said she, “please sit down, and hear what I have to say.”

Locker seated himself on the edge of a chair; he did not feel happy; he suspected something was wrong.

“Is she sick?” he asked.  “Can’t she come down?”

“She is very well,” was the reply, “but she is not here.  She is with her uncle.”

“Then I am due at her uncle’s house before one o’clock,” said he.

“No,” she answered, “you are due here.”

He fixed upon her a questioning glance.

“Miss Asher,” she continued, “has deputed me to give you her answer.  She can not come herself, but she does not forget her agreement with you.”

The young man still gazed steadfastly.  “If it is to be a favorable decision,” said he, “I hope you will be able to excuse any exuberance of demeanor on my part.”

Mrs. Easterfield smiled.  “In that case,” she said, “I do not suppose I should have been sent as an envoy.”

His brow darkened, and instinctively he struck one hand with the other.  “That is exactly what I expected!” he exclaimed.  “The signs all pointed that way.  But until this moment, my dear madam, I hoped.  Yes, I had presumed to hope that I might kindle in her heart a little nickering flame.  I had tried to do this, and I had left but one small match head, which I intended to strike this day.  But now I see I had a piece of the wrong end of the match.  After this I must be content forever to stay in the cold.”

“I am glad you view the matter so philosophically,” said Mrs. Easterfield, “and Olive particularly desired me to say—­”

“Don’t call her Olive, if you please,” he interrupted.  “It is like speaking to me through the partly open door of paradise, through which I can not enter.  Slam it shut, I beg of you, and talk over the top of the wall.”

“Miss Asher wants you to know,” continued Mrs. Easterfield, “that while she has decided to decline your addresses, she is deeply grateful to you for the considerate way in which you have borne yourself toward her.  I know she has a high regard for you, and that she will not forget your kindness.”

Mr. Locker put his hands in his pockets.  “Do you know,” said he, “as this thing had to be done, I prefer to have you do it than to have her do it.  Well, it is done now!  And so am I!”

“You never did truly expect to get her, did you, Mr. Locker?” asked Mrs. Easterfield.