It was the eighth dinner Mother Sprowle had brought him, and Burgo, whose appetite was beginning to fail him for lack of fresh air and exercise, took the dishes from her languidly, like a man who would just as lief have sent them back untasted as not. But when, last of all, the old dame thrust under his nose a tiny envelope addressed "Burgo Brabazon, Esq.," in a feminine hand, there came a flash into his eyes and a look into his face which seemed to make another man of him. Seizing the note, he tore it open, saying to himself in a breathless whisper: "From her ladyship, of course. What can she have to write me about? Not----" But the note was not from her ladyship, as his first startled glance at it sufficed to tell him. "Miss Dacia Roylance presents her compliments to Mr. Brabazon," it ran, "and begs to inform him that she purposes calling upon him (unless unforeseen circumstances should intervene) between eight and nine o'clock this evening, as for some time past Miss Roylance has been extremely desirous of making Mr. Brabazon's acquaintance." Burgo read the note twice over, so dumfounded was he, before he could feel sure that he had taken in the sense aright. Then he held up a finger to the old woman, who was regarding him with one of her equivocal leers, as a signal that she was to remain, after which he stood for a long two minutes with his eyes bent on the floor. He remembered the name of Dacia Roylance as that of a young lady of whom Tyson had made casual mention as being her ladyship's ward or niece, and as having made her appearance at Garion Keep a few days after the arrival of the family. Since then she had scarcely found a moment's place in his thoughts. She was nothing to him, nor he to her; they had never even met; he had felt neither curiosity about her, nor the wish to meet her. Now, however---- The old woman coughed; a hint, evidently, that he must not keep her waiting much longer. Surely so polite a note necessitated an answer similar in kind. He had still the pen and ink which had been brought him the first day, and in his portmanteau were paper and envelopes. Getting together his materials without another moment's delay, he cleared a space on the table and wrote as under: "Mr. Brabazon presents his compliments to Miss Roylance, and in reply to her note just received begs to assure Miss Roylance that it will afford him infinite pleasure to be waited upon by her at whatever hour may best suit her convenience." Then he put the note into an envelope, fastened it up, addressed it, and gave it to Mrs. Sprowle, who took it with a nod as one who knew.