The unwritten laws of politeness obliged Regina to say something. "I
have not heard Mr. Goldenheart mention your name," she remarked. "Are
you an old friend of his?"

Rufus explained with genial alacrity. "We crossed the Pond together,
miss. I like the boy; he's bright and spry; he refreshes me--he does. We
go ahead with most things in my country; and friendship's one of them.
How _do_ you find yourself? Won't you shake hands?" He took her
hand, without waiting to be repelled this time, and shook it with the
heartiest good-will.

Regina shuddered faintly: she summoned assistance in case of further
familiarity. "Phoebe, tell my aunt."

Rufus added a message on his own account. "And say this, my dear. I
sincerely desire to make the acquaintance of Miss Regina's aunt, and any
other members of the family circle."

Phoebe left the room, smiling. Such an amusing visitor as this was
a rare person in Mr. Farnaby's house. Rufus looked after her, with
unconcealed approval. The maid appeared to be more to his taste than
the mistress. "Well, that's a pretty creature, I do declare," he said
to Regina. "Reminds me of our American girls--slim in the waist, and
carries her head nicely. How old may she be, now?"

Regina expressed her opinion of this familiar question by pointing, with
silent dignity, to a chair.

"Thank you, miss; not that one," said Rufus. "You see, I'm long in the
legs, and if I once got down as low as that, I reckon I should have to
restore the balance by putting my feet up on the grate; and that's not
manners in Great Britain--and quite right too."

He picked out the highest chair he could find, and admired the
workmanship as he drew it up to the fireplace. "Most sumptuous and
elegant," he said. "The style of the Re_nay_sance, as they call it."
Regina observed with dismay that he had not got his hat in his hand like
other visitors. He had left it no doubt in the hall; he looked as if he
had dropped in to spend the day, and stay to dinner.

"Well, miss, I've seen your photograph," he resumed; "and I don't
much approve of it, now I see You. My sentiments are not altogether
favourable to that art. I delivered a lecture on photographic
portraiture at Coolspring; and I described it briefly as justice without
mercy. The audience took the idea; they larfed, they did. Larfin'
reminds me of Amelius. Do you object to his being a Christian Socialist,
miss?"

The young lady's look, when she answered the question, was