"She's out yodelin' somewheres, Mr. Hull," informed Tottie, filling the doorway inhospitably, but unconsciously. Hull's face fell. "Well,--well, do you mind if I wait for her?" he asked. "Oh, come in. Come in." He came, with a stride that was plainly acquired in uniform. His cane hung smartly on his left arm. He carried his head high. It was Tottie's conviction that he was the son of a nobleman--perhaps even of a duke; and that he was undoubtedly an erstwhile officer in the King's service. She was respectful to Hull, even a little awe-struck in his presence. He had a way of looking past her when he spoke, of treating her as he might an orderly who was making a report. With him, she always adopted a certain throaty manner of speaking,--a deep, honey huskiness for which a well-known actress, who was a favorite of hers, was renowned, and which she had carefully practiced. How many times of a Sunday, cane in hand, had she seen him come down that street to her steps, wearing a silk hat. Sometimes for his sake alone she wished that she could dispense with that laundry. "Then she didn't get my letter," said Hull. "Can't say," answered Tottie, taking her eyes from the mantelpiece. Hull spied the envelope. "No; here it is. You see, I didn't think I could follow it so soon." Mrs. Colter had risen, and was struggling with her veil. "Mrs. Colter, this is Miss Crosby's fy-an-see," introduced Tottie. "And, Barbara, this is goin' to be your Uncle Felix." Hull sat, and Barbara came to him, putting out a shy hand. "Ah! So this is the little niece!" he exclaimed. "Well! Well!--When did you come down, Mrs. Colter?" "Left Poughkeepsie at six-thirty this mornin'. And now I must be runnin' along--to see if I can find that pickle fork." Barbara had been studying the newcomer more frankly. Emboldened by his smile, she brought forward the nosegay. "See what I've got for Aunt Clare," she whispered. Hull patted the crumpled blossoms. "You're a thoughtful little body," he declared. And as Mrs. Colter started out, "Could I trouble you, I wonder?" He got up. "I mean to say, will you buy something for the little niece?" "Oh, ain't that nice of him!" cried Mrs. Colter, appealing to Tottie. Hull was going into a pocket to cover his confusion at being praised. "A--a pinafore, for instance," he suggested, "or a--a----" "A coat," pronounced Tottie. "Look at that one! It's fierce!" With the grave air of a little old lady, Barbara interposed. "I need shoes worse," she declared. "See." She put out a foot. "Yes, shoes," agreed Hull. He pressed a bill into Mrs. Colter's hand. There were tears in her mild eyes. She did not trust herself to speak, but nodded, smiling, and hurried away. He sat again, and drew the child to him. Tottie, leaned against the mantelpiece once more, observed the two with languid, but not unkindly, interest. "I wonder why the kid's father and mother don't do more for her," she hazarded.