As soon as Sir Douglas had left the box for the second time, it was entered by a stout man, with a vast expanse of shirt front, and a bunch of showy seals. "I thought I could not be mistaken," he said with a marked Scotch accent, holding out his hand to Mona. "I have been watching you from the dress circle ever since the beginning of the play, Miss Maclean; and I thought I must just come and pay my respects." Lady Munro looked utterly aghast, and the ease of Mona's manner rather belied her feelings, as she took his outstretched hand. "That was very kind of you," she said simply. "Mr Cookson, my aunt, Lady Munro,--Miss Munro." Mr Cookson gasped, and there was an awkward pause. Rachel Simpson had not taken with her, across the Atlantic, all the complications in her cousin's life. Fortunately, at this moment two young men came in, and Mona was able to keep Mr Cookson pretty much to herself. "I hope you are all well at Borrowness," she said cordially. "Thanks, we are wonderful, considering. It'll be great news for Matilda that I came across you." "Please give her my love." There was another pause. Mona was longing to ask about Mrs Hamilton and Dr Dudley, but she did not dare. "It was a great thing for Matilda getting to know you," Mr Cookson went on. "We often wish you were back among us. If ever you care to renew the homely old associations a bit, our spare room is always at your disposal, you know." Care to renew the old associations! What else in life did she care so much about? In her eagerness she forgot even the presence of her aunt. "I should like very much to see the old place again," she said. "You are very kind." Mr Cookson's good-natured face beamed with delighted surprise. "It isn't looking its best now," he said; "but any time you care to come, we shall be only too delighted." "Thank you. If it would not be too much trouble to Mrs Cookson, I could come for a day or two at the beginning of January. I shall never forget the fairy frost we had at that time last winter." Mr Cookson laughed. "We will be proud to see you at any time," he said; "but I am afraid we have not enough interest with the clerk of the weather to get up a frost like that again. I never remember to have seen the like of it." He turned to Lady Munro with a vague idea that he ought to be making himself agreeable to her. "My girls were wishing they could carry the leaves and things home," he said; "it seemed such a waste like." Mona inwardly blessed her aunt for the gracious smile with which she listened to these words; but, whatever Lady Munro's feelings might be, it was extremely difficult for her to be ungracious to any one. The Fates, after all, were kind. Mr Cookson left the box before Sir Douglas returned. "My _dear_ Mona!" was all Lady Munro could say the first moment they were left alone.