This afternoon he expected a visit from Mr.Cartwright, who had been serving him in several ways of late, and who had promised to come and talk business for an hour.

The day was anything but cheerful; at times a stray flake of snow hissed upon the fire; already, at three o'clock, shadows were invading the room.
He heard a knock at the front door, and, supposing it to be Cartwright, roused himself.

As he was stirring the fire a servant announced--instead of the father, the daughter.

Jessie Cartwright appeared.
'Something amiss with your father ?' Dagworthy asked, shaking hands with her carelessly.
'Yes; I'm sorry to say he has such a very bad sore-throat that he couldn't possibly come.

Oh, what an afternoon it is, to be sure!' 'Why did _you_ come ?' was Dagworthy's not very polite Inquiry.