Dr. Frost was at the window, and came to the door. Van Rheyn stood still when within a yard of him, took his hat off with the most respectful air, and bowed his head half-way to the ground. He had evidently been brought up with a reverence for pastors and masters. The doctor shook hands. The first thing Van Rheyn did on entering the reception-parlour, was to produce from some inner pocket a large, square letter, sealed with two flaming red seals and a coat of arms; which he handed to the doctor. It contained a draft for a good sum of money in advance of the first three months' payment, and some pages of closely-written matter in the crabbed hand of Monsieur Van Rheyn. Dr. Frost put the pages aside to await the arrival of the French master. "My father was unable to remit the exact amount of money for the trimestre, sir, not knowing what it would be," said young Van Rheyn. "And there will be the extra expenses besides. He will arrange that with you later." "The end of the term would have been time enough to remit this," said the doctor, smiling. "It is not our custom to receive payment in advance." "It is the custom in France, sir, I assure you. And, besides, I am to you a stranger." "Not altogether a stranger; I believe I know something of your mother's family," said Dr. Frost. "How came your father to fix upon my school for you?" "My mother knew of your school, sir: she and my father used to talk of placing me at it. And an English gentleman who came lately to Rouen spoke of it--he said he knew you very well. That again put into my father's head to send me." It was the same Van Rheyn that they had thought--the son of Miss Emma Aberleigh. She had been dead two years. "Are you a Protestant or a Roman Catholic?" questioned Dr. Frost. "I am Protestant, sir: the same that my mother was. We attended the église of Monsieur le Pasteur Mons, of the Culte Evangélique." The doctor asked him if he would take anything before dinner, and he chose a glass of eau sucrée. The mal-de-mer had been rather bad, he said, and he had not been able to eat since. Evidently Hall did not approve of eau sucrée. She had never made eau sucary, she said, when sent to for it. Bringing in the water and sugar, she stood by to watch Van Rheyn mix it, her face sour, her lips drawn in. I am sure it gave her pleasure, when he asked for a few drops of orange-flower water, to be able to say there was not such a thing in the house. "This young gentleman is the son of the Miss Emma Aberleigh you once knew, Hall," spoke the doctor, with a view no doubt to putting her on good terms with the new pupil. "Yes, sir," she answered crustily. "He favours his mamma about the eyes." "She must have had very nice eyes," I put in. "And so she had," said Van Rheyn, looking at me gratefully. "Thank you for saying so. I wish you could have known her!"