Dulce was very timid by nature. She was the least outspoken of the three, and always kept in the background, like a modest little flower that loved the shade; but she was very soft-hearted, and had great regard for people's feelings. And the old man's downcast looks pained her; for how was she to know that he was secretly pleased at this meeting? "I hope--I wish--you did not mind knowing us so much. But it has not been our fault this afternoon," sighed Dulce, stammering and blushing over her words. "You will believe that, will you not, Colonel Middleton?" If a cannon shot had been fired into the old warrior's ear, he could hardly have started more than he did at these childish words. He looked round. There was the little girl, looking up at him with the innocent eyes he remembered so well, and her mouth puckered a little as though she wanted to cry. This was more than any man could bear, even if he had a harder heart than Colonel Middleton. "My dear," he said, taking the little hand, "I have always wanted to know you; Elizabeth will tell you that. I lost my heart to your sisters the first day I saw them. I am sure we shall be good friends in time, if you will forgive an old man's pride." And then he patted her hand as though she had been an infant. When Mr. Drummond sat down to dinner that evening, he astonished Mattie very much by saying,-- "You can ask the Middletons, after all, for your tea-party, if you like, Mattie. What wonderful sight do you think I saw just now? Why, the colonel himself coming out from the Friary, and all the three girls were round him, chattering as though they had known him all their life; and I am pretty sure that in spite of the dark, I saw 'son Hammond' behind him." And Mattie, glad of the permission, gave the invitation the next day. Mattie grew a little alarmed as the evening approached. It was her first party and she knew Archie would be critical; but Grace proved herself a useful ally. In spite of her efforts to keep in the background and leave Mattie in her position as mistress of her brother's house, she felt herself becoming insensibly its presiding spirit. Archie was tolerably good-natured to Mattie; but the habits of a lifetime were too strong for him, and he still snubbed and repressed her at intervals. Mattie felt herself of no importance now that Grace had come: her duties were usurped before her eyes. Archie made a fresh demand on her forbearance every day. "Why cannot you keep to the housekeeping, and let Grace do the schools and visitings?" he said, once. "It must come to her by and by, when you are gone; and I want her to begin as soon as possible. It will not do to let her think she has come too soon," implying that good taste should lead Mattie to resign of her own account.