As the child passed through the hall she heard the family moving about up-stairs. Their voices seemed quite remote; they were almost inaudible. Bonnie May thought it quite probable that they had not heard the summons at the door. She felt a new kind of elation at being permitted to officiate in even a very small domestic function. She was going to admit some one who really came from out of the unknown--whose every word and movement would not be known to her beforehand. Then the mansion seemed to become strangely silent, as if it were listening uneasily to learn who it was that had come out of the darkness and sounded a summons to those within. Bonnie May caught her breath. Her face was fairly glowing when she opened the door. A gentleman stood there; a man who was very substantial-looking and by no means formidable in appearance. The hall-light fell on him. It seemed to Bonnie May that he was quite middle-aged. He was well-dressed in a rather informal way. A short-cropped black mustache had the effect of retreating slightly between two ruddy cheeks. His eyes expressed some degree of merriment--of mischief, and this fact gave him standing with Bonnie May immediately. “Good evening,” said Bonnie May in her most friendly manner. She waited, looking inquiringly up into the twinkling eyes. “I came to see Miss Baron. Is she at home?” “Will you come in? I’ll see.” She led the way into the big drawing-room, which was in complete darkness, save for such rays of light as penetrated from the hall. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to light the gas,” she added. “It’s too high for me to reach.” “Maybe I’d better wait in the hall until you go and tell Miss Flora.” “Certainly not. Light the gas, please.” He obeyed, and as the light fell suddenly upon his face she saw that there was a mischievously meditative gleam in his eyes. Still holding the burnt match in his fingers, he turned to her. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before?” he said. “I only came to-day. Will you sit down?” “You--living here?” The caller appeared to be in no hurry to have his arrival announced. He listened a moment to the faint voices above, and seemed reassured. “Why, yes--I think so. You see, I always live wherever I happen to be.” She smiled brightly, to rob her words of any seeming unfriendliness. She regarded him more in detail. He was a big-bodied man, with a proper tendency to dwindle away neatly from the shoulders down. His hair was of the sort that refuses to be quite nice. It was astonishingly thick and dark, with an occasional glint of silver in it, and it was close-cropped. She liked the way he stood, too; his chest well out, his head back, and as if nothing could disturb his balance. Bonnie May had seen so many men who stood as if they needed propping up, or as if they would be more secure if they had four legs to stand on.