At an adjoining desk sat an elderly sharp-faced gentleman, who was looking
over his spectacles at the movements of his partner. "What a mass of
letters you are about to destroy," he remarked.
Mr. Western took from his month the cigar he was smoking, and after puffing
from between his lips a thin wreath of smoke, replied: "Some of the most
atwocious scwawls that man ever attempted to pewuse,--weplies to the
advertisement. Out of the whole lot there wasn't more than a dozen amongst
them that were weally pwesentable. Here is one wemawkably well witten: I
have desiwed the witer to call this morning at eleven. I hope he will make
as favouwable an impwession as his witing has done. It is now almost
eleven--I pwesume he will be here soon."
Scarcely had Mr. Western finished speaking, ere the door opened, and Esther
entered, followed by Charlie. Both the gentlemen rose, and Mr. Twining
offered her a chair.
Esther accepted the proffered seat, threw up her veil, and said, in a
slightly embarrassed tone, "My brother here, took the liberty of replying
to an advertisement of yours, and you were kind enough to request him to
call at eleven to-day."
"We sent a note to _your_ brother?" said Mr. Twining, in a tone of
surprise.
"Yes, sir, and here it is," said she, extending it to him.
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