But the guest did not look at her; he only looked at his friend, transformed into a ladies' man, a Chesterfield--everything that he wasn't before. He staggered in his gait as he looked on, and took hold of the door-post for support. Missy was glad Mr. Andrews did not observe his agitation; but none of it escaped her, and she longed to give a chance for explanation. "What can he think of us?" she reflected miserably. But no moment for explanation arrived. The dinner-bell rang, with sharp promptness, as they stood in the doorway. It was Melinda's night out, and no grass was allowed to grow under the family's feet when that night came round. The children were hungry too, and rushed ahead into the dining-room; so nothing remained for Mr. Andrews, but to lay down his hat, give his arm to Mrs. Varian and follow them in. Miss Varian exclaimed she wasn't ready for dinner, just coming from the bath, but Missy dreaded her disturbing them by coming in later, and begged her to come at once. She was hungry, and consented. The guest, whose name seemed to be McKenzie, had nothing to do but to follow. There were places enough arranged at the table, but by a villainous, vicious contrivance of fate, every one got a seat before Missy, who had to place her aunt at table, and she was left staring at her enthronement at the head. "I don't think I'd better sit here," she faltered rather low to Mr. McKenzie, who was stranded beside her, "I think there may be something to carve, and I'm not much at that." "Oh, by no means," he exclaimed, hurriedly, "I couldn't think of it--that is--I am sure you belong there--I--I--you--that is--" "Oh, very well," said Missy, seeing that Mr. Andrews was looking rather anxiously in their direction, and sank into her seat. "I want to sit next to Missy," cried Jay. "Even if she was cross to me, I love her all the same, don't you, papa?" "All the same," said Mr. Andrews, smiling, and not looking disconcerted, as he took the stopper out of the decanter by him. Missy was very angry for a moment. Why had he not been disconcerted, as she most unhappily was? But in a few moments she thought better of it, and was ashamed of herself. There was poor mamma, who had made such an effort to come down; she must have a cheerful hour at all events. And the miserable man next her must be put at ease. The room was rather warm, and his heat increased his agitation. His soup almost choked him, and Missy at one time thought she should have to introduce him to his napkin, he seemed too ill at ease to find it, though it was beside his plate. She put the salt within his reach, but he didn't see it, and a water bottle, but he was even beyond that. So she filled his glass and pushed it towards him. He saw it at last, and drank it off at one gulp. "Mr. Andrews," said Missy, "can we have the door a little open? It is rather warm at this end of the room."