“I’ll walk to the top of the street,” Everett determined, “cross over, and then present myself.”  But as he again approached with courage screwed to the sticking-place, a spruce hansom dashed up before him.  Two very “masher” young men sprang out.  They stood for a moment laughing together while one found the fare.  The other glanced at Everett, and, as it seemed to my too sensitive young friend, with a certain amusement.  “Is it possible that this little boy is coming to Lady Charlton’s too?” This at least is the meaning Everett read in an eye probably devoid of any meaning at all.  He felt he could not go in the company of these gentlemen.  He must wait now until they were admitted.  So assuming as unconscious an air as possible he stepped through the band of gaslight, and was once more swallowed up in the friendly darkness beyond.

“I’ll just walk once to the corner and back,” said he; but, fresh obstacle! when he returned, a servant with powdered head swaggered on the threshold exchanging witticisms with the commissionaire keeping order outside; and the crimson carpet laid down across the pavement was fringed with loiterers at either edge, some of whom, as he drew near, turned to look at him with an expectant air.

It was a moment of exquisite suffering.  Should he go in?  Should he pass on?  Only those, (and nowadays such are rare) who have themselves gone through the agonies of shyness can appreciate the situation.  As he reached the full glare of the house-light, Everett’s indecision was visible in his face.

“Lady Charlton’s, sir?” queried Jeames.

My poor Everett!  His imbecility will scarcely be believed.

“Thanks—­no—­ah—­er!” he stammered feebly; “I am looking for Mr. Browne’s!”

Which was the first name that occurred to him, and he heard the men chuckling together as he fled.  After this he walked up and down the long, accursed length of Harley Street, on the dark side of the way, no less than seven mortal times; until, twice passing the same policeman, his sapience began to eye the wild-faced youth with disfavour.  Then he made a tour, east, south, west, north, round the block in which Lady Charlton’s house stands, and so came round to the door once more.

Yet it was clearly impossible to present himself there now, after his folly.  It was also too late—­or he thought it so.  On the other hand, it was too early to go home.  Mrs. Browne had said she should not expect to hear he was in before two or three.  On this account he dared not return, for never, never would he confess to her the depths of his cowardice!  He therefore continued street-walking with treadmill regularity, cold, hungry, and deadly dull.

But when twelve was gone on the church clocks, he could endure it no longer.  He turned and slunk home.  Delicately did he insert the key in the door; most mouse-like did he creep in; and yet someone heard him.  Lily, with flying locks, looked over the balusters, and then ran noiselessly down to the hall.