Let us now take a few steps in advance, and enter the hospitable mansion to which our mysterious personage, who has given his name as Sir Charles Nepod, is passing.

Up these beautiful white steps walk with dainty tread.  At this highly-polished door ring with gentle hand.

A stout serving-man answers our call, and a tittering serving-girl scampers away and conceals herself behind the staircase, as we enter.  What, think you, can be going on?  A wedding, forsooth,—­perhaps a dinner-party.

A brace of charming girls, the deacon’s only daughters, are seated in the front parlor.  We are introduced, and soon learn that they are waiting the arrival of the talented, the benevolent Sir Charles; and, as a matter of form and courtesy, rather than of sincerity and hospitality, we are invited to remain and meet him in the dining-room.  We decline; bid them good-by, and leave.  As we pass out, we are hailed in a loud whisper by the man who first met us, who glibly runs on with his talk as he leads the way, walking sideways all the time to the door.

“An’ sirs,—­sirs, dus yers know what the young Misthresses is afther?  Well, sirs, they’s going’ fur to hev’ a greath dinner with the furriner.  Yes, sirs, with the furriner as come frum a furrin land, and was n’t born in this at all a’ tall.”

As we reach the door, he steps up, whispers in our ears, “An’ I tells yer what, sirs, Kate,—­that’s the gal yer sees, sirs,—­me and she’s goin’ to see all frum the little winder beyant.  This is conveniently private to you, sirs, an’ I hopes ye’ll say nothing to no one about it, sirs; ’t is a private secret, sirs.”

What should induce this man to give us this information, we cannnot conceive.  However, we have no reason to doubt what he tells us, and therefore understand that a dinner-party is to come off, with a wedding in perspective.

As we pass into the street, we meet Nepod.

As he ascends the steps, the two girls, forgetting all rules of etiquette, spring to the door, completely bewildering honest Mike, who is at hand, and welcome the man of the age.

“Mother and aunty have just gone out,” says Nelly;—­“they thought we young folks would enjoy our dinner much better by ourselves alone.”

“How considerate!” replies the guest.  “I met the good old ladies on the street.  How kind in them to be so thoughtful!  How pleasantly will pass the hours of to-day!  This day will be the happiest of my life.”

The three pass to the dining-room.  Though early in March, the weather is quite warm.  In the haste of the moment, and somewhat confused by his warm welcome, our hero has taken his hat and cloak and laid them on a lounge near an open window.  Seated at the table, the company discourse on a variety of subjects, and the two sisters vie with each other in doing the agreeable.

Down town all was excitement, and a great crowd was gathered at the tavern.  The investigating committee had returned from the city, and with the committee three men of mysterious look.  To the uninitiated the mystery that had puzzled them for so long a time grew yet more mysterious.  Nothing could be learned from the two who had returned, respecting Sir Charles, or the additional strangers.  Only dark and mysterious hints were thrown out, rendering the whole affair more completely befogged than before.