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It was Saturday, and Mrs. Fairview, after having been, for the greater part of the morning, in the kitchen making cake, came up to the parlor to dust and re-arrange some of the articles there a little more to her liking. Her hair was in papers, and her morning wrapper not in a very elegant condition, having suffered a little during the cake-making process. It was twelve o’clock, and Mrs. Fairview was about leaving the parlor, when some one rung the bell. Gliding noiselessly to the window, she obtained a view of Mr. Bebee.

“O, dear!” she sighed, “am I to have this infliction to-day? But it’s no use; I won’t see him!”

By this time the servant was moving along the passage towards the door.

“Hannah!” called the lady, in a whisper, beckoning at the same time with her hand.

Hannah came into the parlor.

“Say I’m not at home, Hannah.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the girl, who proceeded on towards the street door, while Mrs. Fairview remained in the parlor.

“Is Mrs. Fairview in?” the latter heard the visitor ask.

“No, sir,” replied Hannah.

“Not in?”

“No, sir. She’s gone out.”

By this time Mr. Bebee stood within the vestibule.

“O, well; I reckon I’ll just drop in and wait awhile. No doubt she’ll be home, soon.”

“I don’t think she will return before two o’clock,” said Hannah, knowing that her mistress, looking more like a scarecrow than a genteel lady, was still in the parlor, and seeing that the visiter was disposed to pass her by and make himself a temporary occupant of the same room.

“No matter,” returned the gentleman, “I’ll just step in for a little while and enjoy myself by the parlor fire. It’s a bitter cold day–perhaps she will be home sooner.”

“O, no, sir. She told me that she would not come back until dinner-time,” said the anxious Hannah, who fully appreciated the dilemma in which her mistress would find herself, should Mr. Bebee make his way into the parlor.

“It’s no consequence. You can just say to her, if she does not return while I am here, that I called and made myself at home for half an hour or so.” And with this, Mr. Bebee passed by the girl, and made his way towards the parlor.

In despair, Hannah ran back to her place in the kitchen, wondering what her mistress would say or do when Mr. Bebee found that she was at home–and, moreover, in such a plight!

In the meantime, Mrs. Fairview, who had been eagerly listening to what passed between Hannah and the visiter, finding that he was about invading her parlor, and seeing no way of escape, retreated into a little room, or office, built off from and communicating only with the parlor. As she entered this room and shut the door, the cold air penetrated her garments and sent a chill through her frame. There was no carpet on the floor of this little box of a place, and it contained neither sofa, chair, nor anything else to sit upon. Moreover, it had but a single door, and that one led into the parlor. Escape, therefore, was cut off, entirely; and to remain long where she was could not be done except at the risk of taking a severe cold.

Through the openings in a Venitian blind that was hung against the glass door, Mrs. Fairview saw the self-satisfied Mr. Bebee draw up the large cushioned chair before the grate, and with a book in his hand, seat himself comfortably and begin to make himself entirely “at home.” The prospect was, that he would thus remain “at home,” for at least the next half hour, if not longer. What was she to do? The thermometer was almost down to zero, and she was dressed for a temperature of seventy.

“I shall catch my death a cold,” she sighed, as the chilly air penetrated her garments, and sent a shudder through her frame.

Comfortably, and as much at home as if he were in his own parlor, sat Mr. Bebee in front of the roaring grate, rocking himself in the great arm-chair, and enjoying a new book which he had found upon the table.