Mellicent's partner called attention to something at the opposite end of the room, and the girl turning to look at it, her understudy naturally followed her example, and straight-way forgot Mellicent and her doings for the rest of the evening. Some one was leaning up against the doorway, studying her in his turn, and at sight of him Peggy's heart gave a wild dance of agitation. The crowds of gaily dressed visitors whizzed round and round like pieces of glass in the old-fashioned kaleidoscope through which she used to gaze in the vicarage drawing-room; the branches of the palms swayed about in extraordinary fashion, and the face staring into her own grew dim and indistinct. But it _was_ the same face. Oh yes! No one else could possibly possess those deep-set eyes, those rugged features, that heavy lock of hair across the brow. In spite of all reasons to the contrary, it was Rob himself, and the next moment his well-known voice sounded in her ear. "Mariquita! Little Peggy! Is this really you?" "Oh, Rob!" cried Peggy faintly, and could find no other word. He had taken the seat beside her, and each gazed into the other's face with eager eyes, noting the changes which the years had brought to the familiar features. Rob's skin was burnt brown by the burning sun of the lands through which he had travelled, his forehead showed deeply graven lines, and his cheeks had lost their boyish curve, but the atmosphere of strength and health and honest manliness remained, and exercised the old magnetic influence over his companion. It was like a breath of mountain air coming into the heated room, to see Rob's face, and hear his hearty voice. Peggy drew a deep sigh of contentment, and smiled a happy greeting. "It is just as you said it would be, Rob, our meeting like this! How long had you been standing there? Did you recognise me at once? Why are you here at all? I thought you were in the country, and that you hated going out, and would never accept an invitation if you could help it!" "Circumstances alter cases! I was at the vicarage the other day when Mellicent's letter arrived, saying you were to be here to-night, and a sudden temptation seized me to have a look at you, and see what manner of young lady the years had made of Peggy-Pickle. I came up this afternoon, astonished Rosalind by offering to accompany her, and wandered about the room staring curiously at every girl I met. I saw several in pink dresses that might possibly have been you, but if they had, I should have marched straight home without troubling for an introduction. Then I skirmished round to this door, and saw a little head bobbing about in a way that seemed familiar, and--" "And please," inquired Peggy meekly, "how do you like me, now you have found me? Am I at all what you expected?"