But the morning of the following Thursday when he was to see her again, he bounded out of bed and felt as though he could not wait for the hour to arrive. To take the carriage to Dorminghurst was his overpowering desire. The old Colonial mansion of Dorminghurst had been the scene of many brilliant receptions; but this one, when Mollie felt that her fate was to be settled, seemed of far-reaching influence. The servants arranged the china and the tea-urn on a round mahogany table in the center of the drawing-room. Tables and chairs arranged for groups of ladies and gentlemen to sit around and sup their tea and gossip, were placed in the corners of the large room. Mollie was taking a last look at her gown when she heard the first carriage rattle along the roadway and came down the grand staircase to take her place with her parents. The Greydons held a position of unquestionable influence in the upper society of Philadelphia. James Greydon, Mollie’s grandfather, had been Secretary of William Penn, the founder; then deputy Governor, then executor of Penn’s vast landed estate. Consequently, the Greydons were lordly proprietors, for the thrifty grandfather had bought his lands from the Indians. Thus a card for a reception at Dorminghurst became almost a command. On this serene afternoon in May the broad avenue of hemlocks seemed more beautiful than ever. The liveried equipages of the FitzMaurices, the Millings, the Redmans, the Binghams, the Adamses, the Chews, the Carrolls, the Pinckneys, the Shippens, the Peterses, the Arnolds came rolling up to the pillared entrance and gay guests alighted, passed hurriedly to the _boudoirs_ and came down to greet Dr. and Mrs. Greydon, and not the least,--Miss Mollie. That young lady was in an anxious mood. She greeted each arrival in a very sweet and cordial manner, but she cast constant glances out into the arched hallway to see if Roderick Barclugh were among the latest arrivals. She eagerly scanned every face and at last saw him come with James Wilson, the lawyer. Mollie watched him ascend the curved staircase on one side and return with the line of guests on the other. He was fashionably dressed in his powdered wig and queue and his shining buckles and lace frills. No gentlemen present bore a more distinguished appearance than Roderick Barclugh. She watched him shake the hand of her father and her mother, and, when her turn came, she offered her hand with delight in her eyes as she said: “I am so glad that you remembered my special invitation.” There was a slight flush in her cheeks, and she knew that Barclugh approved of her gown and her hair by the satisfied glances that his eyes made. He looked into her eyes as he said softly: “This is a great pleasure, to see you again.” Roderick Barclugh bowed profoundly and passed among the guests. He was in the midst of a group who were gossiping about the Arnolds.