"Is Mr.
Sommerville at home?" said I, pressing forward.
"Yes, sir," said John, placing himself in opposition to my
entrance, "he is at home, but--"
"But he is not in," said I. "I remember your phrase of old,
John. Come, I will step into his room, and leave a line for
him."
John was obviously embarrassed by my familiarity. I was some
one, he saw, whom he ought to recollect. At the same time it was
evident he remembered nothing about me.
"Ay, sir, my master is in, and in his own room, but--"
I would not hear him out, but passed before him towards the well-
known apartment. A young lady came out of the room a little
disturbed, as it seemed, and said, "John, what is the matter?"
"A gentleman, Miss Nelly, that insists on seeing my master."
"A very old and deeply-indebted friend," said I, "that ventures
to press myself on my much-respected benefactor on my return from
abroad."
"Alas, sir," replied she, "my uncle would be happy to see you,
but--"
At this moment something was heard within the apartment like the
falling of a plate, or glass, and immediately after my friend's
voice called angrily and eagerly for his niece.
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