"I will, my friend," was the hearty response.

"It's not often," resumed "Cobbler" Horn, "that a Christian man is placed in circ.u.mstances of such difficulty as mine."

The minister laughed heartily and long.

"I really mean it, sir," persisted "Cobbler" Horn, with a deprecatory smile. "When I think of all that my having this money involves, I almost wish the Lord had been pleased to leave me in my contented poverty."

"My dear friend," said the minister, "that will not do at all. Depend upon it, the joy of using your wealth for the Lord, and for His 'little ones,'

will far more than make up for the vanished delights of your departed poverty."

CHAPTER XV.

"COBBLER" HORN ENGAGES A SECRETARY.

On his way home from the minister's house, "Cobbler" Horn was somewhat exercised in his mind as to how he should tell his sister what he had done. He could inform her, without hesitation, that the minister had recommended a secretary; but how should he make known the fact that the commended secretary was a lady? He was not afraid of his sister; but he preferred that she should approve of his doings, and he wished to render his approaching announcement as little distasteful to her as might be. But the difficulty of doing this would be great. It would have been hard to imagine a communication likely to prove more unwelcome to Miss Jemima than the announcement that her brother contemplated the employment of a lady secretary. Nor was the difficulty of the situation relieved by the fact that the lady was young, and possibly attractive. It would have been as easy to impart a delectable flavour to a dose of castor-oil, as to render agreeable to his sister the announcement he must immediately make. Long before he reached home, he relinquished all attempt to settle the difficulty which was agitating his mind. He would begin by telling his sister that the minister had recommended a secretary, and then trust to the inspiration of the moment for the rest.

Miss Jemima, encompa.s.sed with a comprehensive brown ap.r.o.n, stood at the table peeling the potatoes for dinner.

"You've been a long time gone, Thomas," she said complacently--for Miss Jemima was in one of her most amiable moods.

"Yes; we found many things to talk about."

"Well, what did he say on the secretary question?"

"Oh, he has recommended one to me who, he thinks, will do first-rate."

"Ah! and who is the young man? For of course he is young; all secretaries are."

"The person lives in Birmingham," was the guarded reply, "and goes by the name of Owen."

Miss Jemima felt by instinct that her brother was keeping something back.

She shot at him a keen, swift glance, and then resumed the peeling of the potato just then in hand, which operation she effected with such extreme care, that it was a very attenuated strip of peeling which fell curling from her knife into the brown water in the bowl beneath.

"What is this young man's other name?" she calmly asked.

"Well, now, I don't know," said "Cobbler" Horn, with a shrewd smile.

"Just like you men!" whipped out Miss Jemima, pausing in her work; "but I suppose, as the minister recommends him, it will be all right."

There was nothing for it now but a straightforward declaration of the dreadful truth.

"Jemima," said "Cobbler" Horn, "I mustn't mislead you. It's not a young man at all."

Miss Jemima let fall into the water, with a sudden flop, the potato she was peeling, and faced her brother, knife in hand, with a look of wild astonishment in her eyes.

"Not a young man!" she almost shrieked, "What then?"

Her brother's emphasis had been on the word _man_, and not on the word _young_.

"Well, my dear," he replied, "a young----in fact, a young lady."

Up went Miss Jemima's hands.

"Thomas!"

"Yes, Jemima; such is the minister's suggestion."

Miss Jemima, who had resumed her work, proceeded to dig out the eye of a potato with unwonted prodigality.

"Mr. Durnford," resumed "Cobbler" Horn, "tells me it is a common thing for young ladies to be secretaries now-a-days; and he very highly recommended this one in particular."

Miss Jemima knew, that if her brother's mind was made up, it would be useless to withstand his will.

"When is she coming?" was all she said.

"I don't know. Mr. Durnford promised to write and ask her to come and see us first. You shall talk with her yourself, Jemima; and, believe me, if there is any good reason to object to the arrangement, she shall not be engaged."

Miss Jemima permitted herself just one other word.

"I am surprised at Mr. Durnford!" she said; and then the matter dropped.

Two days later, in prompt response to the minister's letter, Miss Owen duly arrived. Mr. Durnford met her at the station, and conducted her to the house of "Cobbler" Horn. He had sent her, in his letter, all needful information concerning "Cobbler" Horn, and the circ.u.mstances which rendered it necessary for him to engage a secretary.

"They reside at present," he said during the walk from the station, "in a small house, but will soon remove to a larger one."

"Cobbler" Horn was busy in his workshop when they arrived; but Miss Jemima was awaiting them in solitary state, in the front-room. The good lady had meant to be forbidding and severe in her reception of the "forward minx,"

whom she had settled it in her mind the prospective secretary would prove to be. But the moment her eyes beheld Miss Owen she was disarmed. The dark-eyed, black-haired, modestly-attired, and even sober-looking girl, who put out her hand with a very simple movement, and spoke, with considerable self-possession truly, but certainly not with an impudent air, bore but scant resemblance to the "brazen hussey" who had haunted Miss Jemima's mind for the past two days.

"Cobbler" Horn came in from his workshop, and greeted the young girl with an honest heartiness which placed her at her ease at once.

With almost a cordial air, Miss Jemima invited the visitors to sit down.

As Miss Owen glanced a second time around the room, a look of perplexity came into her face.

"Do you know, Miss Horn," she said, "your house seems quite familiar to me. I almost feel as if I had been here before. Of course I never have.

It's just one of those queer feelings everybody has sometimes, as if what you are going through at the time had all taken place before."

She spoke out the thought of her mind with a simple impulsiveness which had its own charm.

"No doubt," said Miss Jemima, with a start; but she was deterred from further remark by Mr. Durnford's rising from his seat.

"I think I'll leave you," he said, "and call for Miss Owen in--say a quarter of an hour. With your permission, Mr. Horn, she will sleep at our house to-night."

"Don't go, sir," said "Cobbler" Horn. "Your presence will be a help to us on both sides."