She greeted him with stately courtesy, remarking, as she assigned him a seat on her right at the table, that Miss Jess would be with them directly. And the good lady felt called upon to tell the young man then and there that the girl had no other name, at least they knew of none; observing that this incident concerning the past showed how easy it was to cloud the future by carelessness in determining anything so important at the right time. Mr. Dinsmore made some light, conciliatory reply, inwardly congratulating himself that the impish freak, as he styled the girl, had not put in an appearance, for the sight of her would not improve his digestion, rather it would nauseate him if she came to the table garbed in body as he had last seen her and minus any foot covering. Five minutes passed, in which Mrs. Bryson vainly attempted to keep up the conversation, while the dinner waited for the truant Jess, much to the housekeeper’s annoyance and that of the handsome guest, for the odor of well-cooked viands sent his appetite up to almost a ravenous pitch. “I think we will be forced to dine without Jess,” she began, apologetically, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth ere the sound of ear-splitting whistling, sweet, even though its shrillness fell upon their ears. “Jess is coming,” murmured Mrs. Bryson, flushing hotly, for she was ashamed beyond all words that their guest should hear her actually whistling, and she added, apologetically, “the child is something of a tomboy, Mr. Dinsmore, having no little girl companions must surely account for that”--she looked anxiously at the door as she spoke, and the guest’s eyes naturally followed in the same direction. He was prepared to see a wild, gypsyish creature, more fitted for wild camp life than life at stately Blackheath Hall, where the grand old dining-room, with its service of solid silver, might have satisfied a princess. As the fluttering steps drew nearer, the young man smiled a sneering, satirical smile beneath his dark mustache. He was wondering if the girl would recognize him on sight as the stranger with whom she had had the angry encounter in the lane a few days before. As she neared the great doorway the whistling suddenly ceased, and almost simultaneously the girl appeared in sight, and it was no wonder that the elegant stranger forgot himself so much as to actually stare--for the vision that suddenly appeared before his sight haunted him to the end of his life. Instead of the hoydenish creature he expected to see, he beheld a tall young girl, in a pink and white flowered dress, which became her dark beauty as no Parisian robe could have done; the jetty curls were tied back by a simple pink ribbon, and a knot of pink held the white lace bertha on her white breast. She advanced with the haughty step of a young empress and took her seat opposite Mr. Dinsmore. He never afterward clearly remembered in what words the presentation was made.