not
occur to him that the girl had taken the most effectual way of awaking a
sentimental interest in the persons who were imagining that they were to
be her guests. Katie was one of those people who illustrate the use of
the velvet glove, for in spite of her sprightliness, she was considered
the gentlest little creature in the Colonies.

CHAPTER XIII.

OVER THE THRESHOLD.

Florence, Lady Dacre, with her hand on Archdale's arm walked across the
plank from ship to shore, her husband on the other side of her and her
maid following with Sir Temple's valet, who was devotedly carrying all
the bundles, and interspersing his useful attentions with auguries as to
the "hignorance of the Hamerican Colonies." Lady Dacre walked on with a
light step, and eyes that took note of every thing.

"So, this is Boston?" she said. "I have always wanted to see it. You
will think me in fun, but really, do you know, it has an odd sort of
aggressive look to me! We imagine a certain humility in Colonies, but
your people are more English than Englishmen. That is your carriage,
there on the pier? How kind in you to come for us. And that is your
coachman? Now, even he has a look that, on the whole, he is as good as
you."

"He does not feel so," returned Archdale, smiling.

"Oh, no, I suppose not; it must be the exhilirating air that gives
people that appearance. Such a sky as there is to-day! Do you have
beautiful weather like this all the time?"

"No, sometimes we have a thunder shower."

Sir Temple laughed.

"Good enough for you, Florence," he cried. "What are you so absurd for?"

"For fun. I suppose you know Governor Shirley?" she added after an
instant.

"Slightly. But he is an intimate friend of Mr. Royal,--one of my
father's friends."

"Ah! yes. Well, what is the difference?"

"Then, last year," said Sir Temple, "we met some people in London." He
named several whom Archdale knew.

"And there are two others here now," cried Lady Dacre, "or perhaps I
ought not to say two persons, but one and his shadow. People call him a
reckless sort of a fellow--the man, not the shadow,--but I think him
charming. It is Mr. Edmonson, the best whist player I ever saw."

"And Lord Bulchester?"

"Ah! you know them. Perhaps we are going to meet them at your house?
That will be delightful."

"Lady Dacre has a perfect passion for whist," explained her husband.

"You will certainly meet them there if they will do me the honor to
become