"It was very nice of the Pembertons to remember me," she said reflectively. "I had said you were likely to come, and they heard Mr. Bartram had returned. So they came at once." She could see he was proud of the compliment paid her. "Now, you are tired," he said. "I'll read the paper for myself." "No, no." She took it away playfully. "When my voice gets shaky, you may ask me to stop;" and the mirth in her tone was good to hear. How delightful it was to lean back comfortably and listen to the pleasant voice, with its subtle variations. Ah, if Aldis Bartram could have made sure of her in that other time, before she had learned to love and had her sorrow. And now he seemed to be settled in bachelor ways, and resolved to miss the sweetness of love and life. "Aldis," he said, at the tea table, "do you know young Dr. Langdale?" "In a way. He is not in my line, you know. A very promising young fellow. Were you thinking of trying him?" "Oh, no. But he is from Pittsburg. The Hassels and Miss Pemberton seem to know him quite well. And he is a friend of Daffodil's." "Oh, and is that lieutenant his brother?" Daffodil blushed, though why, she could not have told, and she merely nodded. "Mrs. Hassel seems to think very highly of him." "He's made some sort of discovery--they had him at Dr. Rush's, and he is in a fair way to success. Score one for Pittsburg." "But he has been studying here," rejoined Daffodil frankly. The next day it rained, and rainy days seemed to affect M. de Ronville, but he hardly noted it. They read and talked French, and had a rather laughable time. And in the afternoon an old friend, Colonel Plumsted, came in to play chess, and Daffodil watched, much interested. Aldis was surprised to find his host in such good spirits when he returned. Mrs. Hassel gave her tea party soon after. Daffodil met several old friends, who remembered the little girl. Belinda found time to impart the secret that she and Jack Willing were engaged, though she meant to have one good winter of fun before she was married. Jack seemed to be a nice, jolly fellow. And there was Anton Wetherell and Arthur Pemberton, and Arthur was asked to take her out to the supper table. "Why, it's quite like old times to have you here again! Truly, I never thought of your growing up. You were always in my mind as a little golden-haired fairy that flashes about and then--do they return to the 'little folk'?" "I haven't, you see. But I was not quite a fairy. And one grandfather used to call me Yellowtop." She laughed musically. "One? How many grandfathers did you have?" "I had three at one time, one in every generation. But the oldest one went away, and now there are only two."