“Most impertinent,” said Miss Wigger.

Mr. Linley looked astonished.

“I say, most impertinent!” Miss Wigger repeated.

Mr. Linley attempted to pacify this terrible woman.  “It’s very stupid of me,” he said; “I am afraid I don’t quite understand you.”

“One of my teachers has issued an advertisement, and has referred to My address, without first consulting Me.  Have I made myself understood, sir?” She looked at the carriage again, when she called him “sir.”

Not even Linley’s capacity for self-restraint could repress the expression of relief, visible in his brightening face, when he discovered that the lady of the advertisement and the lady who terrified him were two different persons.

“Have I made myself understood?” Miss Wigger repeated.

“Perfectly, madam.  At the same time, I am afraid I must own that the advertisement has produced a favorable impression on me.”

“I fail entirely to see why,” Miss Wigger remarked.

“There is surely,” Linley repeated, “something straightforward—­I might almost say, something innocent—­in the manner in which the writer expresses herself.  She seems to be singularly modest on the subject of her own attainments, and unusually considerate of the interests of others.  I hope you will permit me—?”

Before he could add, “to see the young lady,” the door was opened:  a young lady entered the room.

Was she the writer of the advertisement?  He felt sure of it, for no better reason than this:  the moment he looked at her she interested him.  It was an interest new to Linley, in his experience of himself There was nothing to appeal to his admiration (by way of his senses) in the pale, worn young creature who stood near the door, resigned beforehand to whatever reception she might meet with.  The poor teacher made him think of his happy young wife at home—­of his pretty little girl, the spoiled child of the household.  He looked at Sydney Westerfield with a heartfelt compassion which did honor to them both.

“What do you mean by coming here?” Miss Wigger inquired.

She answered gently, but not timidly.  The tone in which the mistress had spoken had evidently not shaken her resolution, so far.

“I wish to know,” she said, “if this gentleman desires to see me on the subject of my advertisement?”

“Your advertisement?” Miss Wigger repeated.  “Miss Westerfield! how dare you beg for employment in a newspaper, without asking my leave?”

“I only waited to tell you what I had done, till I knew whether my advertisement would be answered or not.”

She spoke as calmly as before, still submitting to the insolent authority of the schoolmistress with a steady fortitude very remarkable in any girl—­and especially in a girl whose face revealed a sensitive nature.  Linley approached her, and said his few kind words before Miss Wigger could assert herself for the third time.