“There’s nothing!”

“It may come in the morning.  I should like to know whether you hear or not.”

“Would this be out of your way?” asked Patty.  “I’m generally alone in the shop from half-past one to half-past two.  There’s very seldom any business going on then.”

“Then I will come to-morrow at that time.”

“Do, please?  If I haven’t heard anything I shall be that nervous.”

They talked to no purpose for a few minutes, and bade each other good-night.

Next day, at the hour Patty had appointed, Hilliard was again in High Street.  As he approached the shop he heard from within the jingle of a piano.  A survey through the closed glass door showed him Miss Ringrose playing for her own amusement.  He entered, and Patty jumped up with a smile of welcome.

“It’s all right!  I had a letter this morning.  She has gone to Dudley.”

“Ah!  I am glad to hear it.  Any reason given?”

“Nothing particular,” answered the girl, striking a note on the piano with her forefinger.  “She thought she might as well go home for a week or two before taking another place.  She has heard of something in Holborn.”

“So your alarm was groundless.”

“Oh—­I didn’t really feel alarmed, Mr. Hilliard.  You mustn’t think that.  I often do silly things.”

Patty’s look and tone were far from reassuring.  Evidently she had been relieved from her suspense, but no less plainly did she seek to avoid an explanation of it.  Hilliard began to glance about the shop.

“My uncle,” resumed Patty, turning with her wonted sprightliness to another subject, “always goes out for an hour or two in the middle of the day to play billiards.  I can tell by his face when he comes back whether he’s lost or won; he does so take it to heart, silly man!  Do you play billiards?”

The other shook his head.

“I thought not.  You have a serious look.”

Hilliard did not relish this compliment.  He imagined he had cast away his gloom; he desired to look like the men who take life with easy courage.  As he gazed through the glass door into the street, a figure suddenly blocked his prospect, and a face looked in.  Then the door opened, and there entered a young man of clerkly appearance, who glanced from Miss Ringrose to her companion with an air of severity.  Patty had reddened a little.

“What are you doing here at this time of day?” she asked familiarly.

“Oh—­business—­had to look up a man over here.  Thought I’d speak a word as I passed.”

Hilliard drew aside.

“Who has opened this new shop opposite?” added the young man, beckoning from the doorway.

A more transparent pretext for drawing Patty away could not have been conceived; but she readily lent herself to it, and followed.  The door closed behind them.  In a few minutes Patty returned alone, with rosy cheeks and mutinous lips.