The dinner hour had been set forward in honor of the two boys, who declared they were as hungry as wolves. When they entered the dining-room they found only Winnie and her governess there. Miss Pritchard was a long and lean individual, all angles and asperities. She must have seen rather more than forty summers, but nothing in the world could ever make her admit it. She was one of those daughters of Albion who, though living in various parts of the world, still retain their own habits and English peculiarities. Miss Pritchard, for instance, would have thought herself forever disgraced if she had appeared a single evening without dressing for dinner; no matter if she happened to be traveling in Asia Minor, or sitting down to a cup of tea with bread and butter, she would make no exception to her rule. She always withdrew to her room an hour before the meal, to emerge clad in a silk dress, with a bright ribbon in her hair. For her, there was but one country in the world: England. In spite of the comfort and luxury which she enjoyed, she was always lamenting her "English home." At the bottom of her heart, however, she very well knew that she was much better off at Aleppo than in England, where she would have had to work hard to earn her living. It need hardly be said that after living ten years in this country, she did not know ten words of Turkish. She had never become accustomed to the small discomforts of the Orient; a flea gave her a nervous shock, and other insects threw her into a swoon. These ill-turns recurred at such frequent intervals that nobody was alarmed by them any more. Some one would give her eau de cologne to inhale, and after five or ten minutes the poor lady would come to herself, saying: "It is too dreadful, I must pack my trunks at once; so sorry to leave you all, dears, but I can't stand it any longer." Nobody took her at her word, however, and by the next day she had forgotten all about it. The Rossinians overlooked her numerous eccentricities, for she was a very good teacher, and devoted to her pupil. When Archag was presented to her, in accordance to all the rules of good society, she held out two fingers with an indifferent air, looked him over from head to foot, murmured a, "How do you do?" and turned her back on him. But the doctor and his wife quickly put Archag at his ease. They had a deep feeling of gratitude toward him, for they knew that to him they owed the life of their only son. Mrs. Rossinian asked him a multitude of questions about his family, to which he replied without embarrassment. Miss Pritchard asked him if it was very hot at Van, and without waiting for his reply, declared that she could never get used to the heat of Aleppo. "I bear it, I bear it," said she plaintively, "but how I do miss our dear London fogs."