It might have been noticed some time later that Mr. Heatherbloom, retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen’s, betrayed a rather vacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to go into, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house.  For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter?  With Miss Van Rolsen’s niece?  So far he had not seen her since that first day.  Perhaps he congratulated himself on his good fortune in this respect.  If so, he reckoned without his host.

It is possible for two people to frequent the same house for quite a while without meeting when one of them lives on the avenue side and flits back and forth via the front steps, while the other comes and goes only by the subterranean route; but, sooner or later, though belonging to widely different worlds, these two are bound to come face to face, even in spite of the determination of one of the persons to avert such a contingency!

Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from the house with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when he returned.  He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when the front door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment.  It was opened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such a moment.  And he had been planning, after reading the newspaper article in the park, to tender his resignation that very afternoon!

It availed him nothing now to regret indecision, his being partly coerced by the masterful mistress of the house into remaining as long as he had remained; or to lament that other sentiment, conspiring to this end—­the desire or determination, not to flee from what he most feared.  Empty bravado!  If he could but flee now!  But there was no fleeing, turning, retreating, or evading.  The issue had to be met.

Miss Dalrymple, gowned in a filmy material which lent an evanescent charm to her slender figure, came down the front steps as he was about to enter the area way below.  The girl looked at him and her eyes suddenly widened; she stopped.  Mr. Heatherbloom, quite pale, bowed and would have gone on, when something in her look, or the first word that fell from her lips, held him.

“You!” she said, as if she did not at all comprehend.

He repaid her regard with less steady look; he had to say something and he didn’t wish to.  Why couldn’t people just meet and pass on, the way dumb creatures do?  The gift of speech has its disadvantages—­on occasions; it forces one to insufficient answer or superfluous explanation.  “Yes,” he said, “your—­Miss Van Rolsen engaged me.  I didn’t really want to stay, but it came about.  Some things do, you know.  You see,” he added, “I didn’t know she was your aunt when I answered the advertisement.”