In a single word, then, the lively Miss Fanny had uttered the emphatic words, “Oh, me!—­my goodness gracious!” because she had heard upon the staircase the noise of a masculine footstep, and caught sight of a masculine cocked-hat ascending;—­which phenomenon, arguing again upon the theories of cause and effect, plainly indicated that a head was under the chapeau—­the head of one of the opposite sex.

Redbud raised her head quickly at her friend’s exclamation, and discerned the reason therefor.  She understood, at a glance, that Verty had become impatient, waiting in the hall down stairs;—­bad heard her voice from the room above; and, following his wont at Apple Orchard, quite innocently bethought himself of saving Redbud the trouble of descending, by ascending to her.

Verty sent his voice before him—­a laughing and jubilant voice, which asked for Redbud.

Fanny jumped up and ran to the door, just as the young man placed his foot upon the landing, and stood before the group.

Verty made a low bow, and greeted Miss Fanny with one of the most fascinating smiles which could possibly be imagined.  Fanny slammed the door in his face, without the least hesitation.

For a moment, Verty stood motionless and bewildered, vainly striving to make out what this extraordinary occurrence meant.  At Apple Orchard, as we have said, the doors had never been slammed in his face.  On the contrary, he had ranged freely over the mansion, amusing himself as seemed best to him:  taking down a volume here—­opening a closet there—­strolling into the Squire’s room, or Redbud’s room, where that young lady was studying—­and even into the apartment of the dreadful Miss Lavinia, where sat that solemn lady, engaged in the task of keeping the household wardrobe, stockings, and what not, in good condition.  No one had ever told Verty that there was the least impropriety in this proceeding; and now, when he only meant to do what he had done a thousand times before, he had a door banged in his face, as if he were a thief with hostile intentions toward the spoons.

For some moments, therefore, as we have said, the young man stood thunderstruck and motionless.  Then, considering the whole affair a joke, he began to laugh; and essayed to open the door.

In vain.  Fanny, possibly foreseeing this, had turned the key.

“Redbud!” said Verty.

“Sir?” said a voice; not Redbud’s, however.

“Let me in.”

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” replied the voice.

“Why?” said Verty, with ready philosophy; “it’s nobody but me.”

“Hum!” said the voice again, in indignant protest against the force of any such reasoning.

“You are not Redbud,” continued the cavalier; “I want to see Redbud.”

“Well, sir,—­go down, and Reddy may come and see you,” the voice replied; “as long as you stand there, you will not lay eyes on her—­if you stay a week, or a year.”