Mr. Gibb was a queer boy; which was why his "chief" occasionally alluded to him as King Solomon. CHAPTER XXI NORA FINDS SOMETHING TO DO Mr. Hooper had not long arrived at his chambers, on the following morning; he was lounging in his chair, his hat still on the back of his head, his pipe between his lips, studying, in the newspaper which he held out in front of him, reports of cricket, golf, and similar legal matters, when the door was opened and Mr. Gibb came in. "Lady to see you, sir." Mr. Hooper started. "Lady? What lady?" "Lady you made an appointment with yesterday, sir." "Lady I made an appointment with yesterday?" Mr. Hooper seemed to be making an effort to collect his wits, which Mr. Gibb's announcement had scattered. "You young scoundrel! I'd forgotten----" Fortunately he had got no further; because, even as he was speaking, the lady entered; whereupon Mr. Gibb vanished with a degree of haste which was almost suspicious. Mr. Hooper dropped his newspaper, removed his hat with one hand, his pipe with the other, and sprang to his feet, to stare; forgetful altogether, for the moment, of his manners, so completely was he taken by surprise. What he had expected to see he could not have said; what he actually did see, standing "in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom," was the most beautiful girl he ever had seen. She was tall and most divinely fair, perfectly dressed, in a long, trailing black gown, which became her slender form, and a big black hat, which threw into strong relief what seemed to him to be the almost ethereal beauty of her face; and she held herself daintily erect, like the great lady he could have sworn she was. The fact that the bowl of his pipe was burning his hand recalled him to his senses. "I--I beg your pardon; I'm afraid I've been smoking; if you'll allow me I'll open the windows." He opened them; the three windows the room contained. "You are Mr. Hooper?" Her voice was just the kind of voice it was fitting should be hers, soft, clear, sweet; it was to him like the sound of music which he loved; and, when he heard it, off went his wits again. "Yes, that--that is my name; yes--exactly--I--I am Mr. Hooper--yes." "I am Nora Lindsay." Nora! That was one of his pet names; as she pronounced it it seemed to him to be the sweetest name a woman could have; like everything about her, it became her so. "May I--may I offer you a seat, Miss Lindsay? I--I am very glad to see you."