Margaret, glad that her part of entertaining the visitor was over, went to the window to try and make herself more familiar with the strange aspect of the street. She got so much absorbed in watching what was going on outside that she hardly heard her father when he spoke to her, and he had to repeat what he said:
"Margaret! the landlord will persist in admiring that hideous paper, and I am afraid we must let it remain."
"Oh dear! I am sorry!" she replied, and began to turn over in her mind the possibility of hiding part of it, at least, by some of her sketches, but gave up the idea at last, as likely only to make bad worse. Her father, meanwhile, with his kindly country hospitality, was pressing Mr. Thornton to stay to luncheon with them. It would have been very inconvenient to him to do so, yet he felt that he should have yielded, if Margaret by word or look had seconded her father's invitation; he was glad she did not, and yet he was irritated at her for not doing it. She gave him a low, grave bow when he left, and he felt more awkward and self-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in all his life before.
"Well, Margaret, now to luncheon, as fast we can. Have you ordered it?"
"No, papa; that man was here when I came home, and I have never had an opportunity."
"Then we must take anything we can get. He must have been waiting a long time, I'm afraid."
"It seemed exceedingly long to me. I was just at the last gasp when you came in. He never went
