Fledgeby had dropped into a chair, in the attitude of one waiting wearily. “I suppose he will be back soon,” he replied; “he has cut out and left me expecting him back, in an odd way. Haven’t I seen you before?”

“Once before⁠—if you had your eyesight,” replied Miss Wren; the conditional clause in an undertone.

“When you were carrying on some games up at the top of the house. I remember. How’s your friend?”

“I have more friends than one, sir, I hope,” replied Miss Wren. “Which friend?”

“Never mind,” said Mr. Fledgeby, shutting up one eye, “any of your friends, all your friends. Are they pretty tolerable?”

Somewhat confounded, Miss Wren parried the pleasantry, and sat down in a corner behind the door, with her basket in her lap. By-and-by, she said, breaking a long and patient silence: