Tom Ossington's Ghost
"Yes, this is Clover Cottage."

"Are you--pardon me--but are you Miss Ossington?"

"Ossington? No--that is not my name."

"But doesn't some one of that name live here?"

"No one. I never heard it before. I think there must be some mistake."

She laid her hand on the latch--by way of giving him a hint to go. He prevented her opening it, placing his own hand against the door; courteously, yet unmistakably.

"Excuse me--but I hope you will give me a lesson; if it is only of a quarter of an hour, to try what I can do--to see if it would be worth your while to have me as a pupil. I have been long looking for an opportunity of taking lessons, and when I saw your plate on the gate I jumped at the chance."

She hesitated. The situation was an odd one--and yet she had already been for some time aware that young women who are fighting for daily bread have not seldom to face odd situations. Funds were desperately low. She had to contribute her share to the expenses of the little household, and that share was in arrear. Of late MSS. had been coming back more monotonously than ever. Pupils--especially those who were willing to pay possible prices--were few and far between. Who was she, that she should turn custom from the door? It was nothing that this was a stranger--all her pupils were strangers at the beginning; most of them were still strangers at the end. Men, she had heard, pay better than women. She might take advantage of this person's sex to charge him extra terms--even to the extent of five shillings a lesson instead of half a crown. It was an opportunity she could not afford to lose. She resolved to at least go so far as to learn exactly what it was he wanted; and then if, from any point of view, it seemed advisable, to make an appointment for a future date.

She led the way into the sitting room--he following.

"Are you quite a beginner?" she asked.

"No, not--not altogether."

"Let me see what you can do."


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