"I dare say it is the same person I heard asking the way to
Wyllys-Roof this morning, when we stopped at the turnpike-gate,"
observed Mrs. Stanley. "He looked at the time as if he had been
drinking."

Elinor suggested that possibly it might be some old sailor, who
fancied he had a claim upon Mr. Wyllys's kindness--Mr. George
Wyllys having died a commander in the navy.

Harry volunteered to go out and take a look at him, and the party
in the drawing-room awaited the result of this reconnoitring
{sic}. At the end of five minutes Hazlehurst returned with his
report.

"As far as I can judge by the help of moonlight and a lantern, it
is no very prepossessing personage. He swore at me roundly for
disturbing him, and I take it the fellow is really a sailor. I
asked him what he wanted at Wyllys-Roof, but we could not make
anything out of him. To keep him from mischief, we locked him up
in one of the out-houses. It is to be hoped in the morning he
will be sober enough to tell his errand."

The matter thus settled, nothing farther was thought of it at the
time, and in another moment the game of chess was won, and the
flower secured in a becoming position. Mrs. Stanley had been
watching Elinor's movements with a smile.

"You are an expert hair-dresser; the flowers are much prettier as
you have arranged them," said the lady to her young friend.