Charlie flew up stairs to Esther’s room, and rushing in precipitately, exclaimed, “Oh!  Ess—­I’ve got it, I’ve got it—­see here,” he shouted, waving the note over his head; “Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Just read it, Ess, only just read it!”

“How can I, Charlie?” said she, with a smile, “if you hold it in your hand and dance about in that frantic style—­give it me.  There now—­keep quiet a moment, and let me read it.”  After perusing it attentively, Esther added, “Don’t be too sanguine, Charlie.  You see by the tenor of the note that the situation is not promised you; they only wish to see you respecting it.  You may not secure it, after all—­some obstacle may arise of which we are not at present aware.”

“Go on, old raven—­croak away!” said Charlie, giving her at the same time a facetious poke.

“There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip,” she added.

“Oh, Ess!” he rejoined, “don’t throw cold water on a fellow in that style—­don’t harbour so many doubts.  Do you think they would take the trouble to write if they did not intend to give me the situation?  Go away, old raven,” concluded he, kissing her, “and don’t let us have any more croaking.”

Charlie was bounding from the room, when he was stopped by his sister, who begged him not to say anything to their mother respecting it, but wait until they knew the issue of the interview; and, if he secured the situation, it would be a very agreeable surprise to her.

We will now visit, in company with the reader, the spacious offices of Messrs. Twining, Western, and Twining, where we shall find Mr. Western about consigning to the waste-paper basket a large pile of letters.  This gentleman was very fashionably dressed, of dark complexion, with the languid air and drawling intonation of a Southerner.

At an adjoining desk sat an elderly sharp-faced gentleman, who was looking over his spectacles at the movements of his partner.  “What a mass of letters you are about to destroy,” he remarked.

Mr. Western took from his month the cigar he was smoking, and after puffing from between his lips a thin wreath of smoke, replied:  “Some of the most atwocious scwawls that man ever attempted to pewuse,—­weplies to the advertisement.  Out of the whole lot there wasn’t more than a dozen amongst them that were weally pwesentable.  Here is one wemawkably well witten:  I have desiwed the witer to call this morning at eleven.  I hope he will make as favouwable an impwession as his witing has done.  It is now almost eleven—­I pwesume he will be here soon.”

Scarcely had Mr. Western finished speaking, ere the door opened, and Esther entered, followed by Charlie.  Both the gentlemen rose, and Mr. Twining offered her a chair.

Esther accepted the proffered seat, threw up her veil, and said, in a slightly embarrassed tone, “My brother here, took the liberty of replying to an advertisement of yours, and you were kind enough to request him to call at eleven to-day.”