olly. How d'ye do, old girl?'

The two men looked up, and Molly looked down. Delight at her brother's
return so filled her heart and mind that there was no room left for
embarrassment at the appearance of a stranger.

'O, Maulevrier, I am so glad! I have been pining for you. Why didn't you
write to say you were coming? It would have been something to look
forward to.'

'Couldn't. Never knew from day to day what I was going to be up to;
besides, I knew I should find you at home.'

'Of course. We are always at home,' said Mary; 'go up to the house as
fast as ever you can. I'll go and tell grandmother.'

'And tell them to get us some dinner,' said Maulevrier.

Mary's fluttering figure dipped and was gone, vanishing in the dark
labyrinth of shrubs. The two young men sauntered up to the house.

'We needn't hurry,' said Maulevrier to his companion, whom he had not
taken the trouble to introduce to his sister. 'We shall have to wait for
our dinner.'

'And we shall have to change our dusty clothes,' added the other; 'I
hope that man will bring our portmanteaux in time.'

'Oh, we needn't dress. We can spend the evening in my den, if you
like!'

Mary flew across the lawn again, and bounded up the steps of the
verandah--a picturesque Swiss verandah which made a covered promenade in
front of the house.

'Mary, may I ask the meaning of this excitement,' inquired her ladyship,
as the breathless girl stood before her.

'Maulevrier has come home.'

'At last?'

'And he has brought a friend.'

'Indeed! He might have done me the honour to inquire if his friend's
visit would be agreeable. What kind of person?'

'I have no idea. I didn't look at him. Maulevrier is looking so well.
They will be here in a minute. May I order dinner for them?'

'Of course, they must have dinner,' said her ladyship, resignedly, as if
the whole thing were an infliction; and Mary ran out and interviewed the
butler, begging that all things might be made particularly comfortable
for the travellers. It was nine o'clock, and the servants were enjoying
their eventide repose.

Having given her orders, Mary went back to the drawing-room, impatiently
expectant of her brother's arrival, for which event Lesbia and her
grandmother waited with perfect tranquillity, the dowager calmly
continuing the perusal of her _Times_, while Lesbia sat at her piano in
a shadowy corner, and played one of Mendelssohn's softest Lieder. To
these dreamy strains Maulevri