“I have a parcel for Mrs. Mason,” said Andy.

“All right; I’ll take it.”

“I am only to deliver it into her hands.”

“She isn’t at home.”

“Then I will wait for her.  She said she would be here at twelve.”

The man was about to speak rudely, when a lady mounted the steps.

“Are you from Mr. Flint?” she asked.

“Yes, madam.”

“I am Mrs. Mason.”

“I remember you,” said Andy, bowing.  “Will you be kind enough to give me a receipt?”

“Certainly.  Step into the hall, and I won’t keep you waiting long.”

Andy sat down.

“Why didn’t you give me the parcel, boy?” asked the servant.

“Because you are not Mrs. Mason.  I had strict orders to deliver it to her.”

“Humph! that is being mighty particular.”

“I have nothing to do with Mr. Flint’s rules.”

Mrs. Mason returned almost immediately.

“Here is the receipt, and thank you,” she said, pleasantly.

Andy bowed, and opened the door to go out.

“I am afraid I have interfered with your lunch,” she said.

“I am going to it now, thank you.”

“My lunch is just ready.  Perhaps you will accept an invitation to lunch with me?”

“I shall be very glad to do so.”

Andy had been brought up as a gentleman, and was not at all embarrassed, as some boys would have been, by this attention from a lady.

“Follow me, then,” she said, as she led the way downstairs to the front basement.

A small table was set there, and Mrs. Mason pointed to a seat.

“You are my only guest,” she said.  “My boy is out of town just at present.  Shall I help you to some cold chicken?”

“Thank you.”

Besides the chicken there was bread and butter, some kind of preserve, and hot tea.  It was all very plain, but Andy enjoyed it.

“I ought to know the name of my guest,” said Mrs. Mason.

“My name is Andrew Grant.”

“Have you been long at Mr. Flint’s?”

“This is my first day.”

“I hope you will find the situation a pleasant one.  You are not a city boy?”

“No, I came from Arden.”

They were waited upon at table by Gustave, the man who had treated Andy rudely.

He did not look at all pleasant at having to wait upon the boy from
“Flint’s,” and evidently considered his mistress very eccentric.

Mrs. Mason gossiped pleasantly, and evidently enjoyed her young company.

“That is better than eating alone,” she said, as she rose from the table.  “I feel quite well acquainted with you, Andrew.  You must come up sometime when my boy is at home.  He is a year or two younger than you, but I think you will get on together.”

“I shall be very glad to come,” replied Andy, gratefully.  “Thank you for all your kindness.”

He went back to the store at once.