I was now beginning to grow seriously uneasy—­our little project, so far from bringing in the gains on which we had calculated, had put me considerably out of pocket; for, independently of the cost of the advertisement I have mentioned, there were sundry little expenses involved in preparing for the meet reception of our expected inmate, which, under ordinary circumstances, we should not have dreamed of.  Matters were in this posture, when an occurrence took place which immediately revived my flagging hopes.

As we had no superfluity of servants, our children were early obliged to acquire habits of independence; and my little girl, then just nine years of age, was frequently consigned with no other care than that of her own good sense, to the companionship of a little band of playmates, pretty similarly circumstanced, with whom it was her wont to play.  Having one fine summer afternoon gone out as usual with these little companions, she did not return quite so soon as we had expected her; when she did so, she was out of breath, and excited.

“Oh, papa,” she said, “I have seen such a nice old, kind gentleman, and he told me to tell you that he has a particular friend who wants a lodging in a quiet place, and that he thinks your house would suit him exactly, and ever so much more; and, look here, he gave me this.”

She opened her hand, and shewed me a sovereign.

“Well, this does look promisingly,” I said, my wife and I having first exchanged a smiling glance.

“And what kind of gentleman was he, dear?” inquired she.  “Was he well dressed—­whom was he like?”

“He was not like any one that I know,” she answered; “but he had very nice new clothes on, and he was one of the fattest men I ever saw; and I am sure he is sick, for he looks very pale, and he had a crutch beside him.”

“Dear me, how strange!” exclaimed my wife; though, in truth there was nothing very wonderful in the matter.  “Go on, child,” I said; “let us hear it all out.”

“Well, papa, he had such an immense yellow waistcoat!—­I never did see such a waistcoat,” she resumed; “and he was sitting or leaning, I can’t say which, against the bank of the green lane; I suppose to rest himself, for he seems very weak, poor gentleman!”

“And how did you happen to speak to him?” asked my wife.

“When we were passing by, none of us saw him at all but I suppose he heard them talking to me, and saying my name; for he said, ’Fanny—­little Fanny—­so, that’s your name—­come here child, I have a question to ask you.’”

“And so you went to him?” I said.

“Yes,” she continued, “he beckoned to me, and I did go over to him, but not very near, for I was greatly afraid of him at first.”

“Afraid! dear, and why afraid?” asked I.

“I was afraid, because he looked very old, very frightful, and as if he would hurt me.”

“What was there so old and frightful about him?” I asked.