“My cousin is a very nice man. He is not a bit like you.” Then her audacity wavered. “He is very blond. Is the train late?” “I hope so.” “I hope not.” It was not, and in a minute more it rolled in, distractingly long and overflowing with eager passengers. “How shall I ever find him?” Jacqueline cried, in dismay. “He may be already out of a dozen cars and lost in the mob, and he doesn’t know the way.” “What is he like?” Merrington asked. “Oh, he is tall, like you, and square-shouldered and very good-looking, only his hair isn’t like yours.” “Then I’m to look for some one like me with blond hair, is that it?” “Of course not,” she exclaimed, indignantly. “He isn’t at all like you, but you offered to help, and you are tall.” Merrington, curiously happy, he could not just know why, looked around over the sea of people. “There is some one I know with yellow hair,” he said, presently. “I wouldn’t acknowledge it if I did,” Jacqueline replied, with stiff propriety, but for once Merrington was unmindful of her words, and was waving his hand with facile grace above his head. “There’s Dick, now!” the girl cried, as a tall, blond young fellow bore down upon them; then she stood still in amazement as the two men seized hands. “You two know each other!” she exclaimed. “Know each other! I should say we did. Didn’t we ‘do’ Europe together for a year, and then dine with each other the night we got home? How’s that for a test, Jack?” “Splendid,” Jacqueline responded, but she was not feeling very comfortable. When they reached the waiting trap, and Merrington had helped Jacqueline up, Brinton turned to his friend. “Where are you staying?” “My cousin, Peggie Le Moyne, is down here. I am with her.” In spite of her reluctance, Jacqueline spoke. “Mrs. Le Moyne’s cottage is next door to ours, Dick.” “Good!” exclaimed Brinton. “I say, Jack, have him over to dinner to-night.” Jacqueline turned to Merrington. “Will you come?” she asked, a lovely smile adding to the beauty of her blushes. Merrington hesitated. He felt that the invitation had been forced. “Peggie will spare you,” Jacqueline urged, “and old friends do not turn up every day.” “Thank you,” said Merrington. “I will come.” IV. “You are a very lucky young man,” said Peggie Le Moyne to her cousin, when he had told her of the invitation. “Of course Jacqueline was cornered, and gave it perforce, but there is a potency in hospitality that works both ways. Besides, when a man has seen a woman in her home she can never be altogether formal to him again.” “I feel as though I were sneaking in through the back door, all the same,” Merrington replied, more moodily than was his wont. Notwithstanding his misgivings, Jacqueline met her guest with a graciousness that made her adorable in his sight. Driven from her vantage ground though she was by her cousin’s outspoken invitation to Merrington, there was no hint of anything but cordiality in her welcome.