Una felt dazed and stunned for a few minutes, then she made what preparations were possible. She chose from her box, which had been conveyed to her room by some invisible agency apparently, a plain muslin dress, and, more by instinct than any prompting of vanity, fastened a rose in her hair. She had scarcely completed her simple toilet when the bell rang, and she went into the next room. A maid servant--Una noticed that it was not the one who had opened the door--was in attendance upon Mrs. Davenant, and dropped a courtesy as Mrs. Davenant said, in her nervous, hesitating fashion: "This is Miss Rolfe, Jane." Una smiled, and was about to hold out her hand, but stopped, seeing no movement of a similar kind on the part of the neatly-dressed girl. "Jane is my own maid, Una," said Mrs. Davenant. "She will attend to you when you want her." Jane dropped another courtesy, but Una detected a glance of curiosity and scrutiny at the plain white muslin. "Come," said Mrs. Davenant, "let us go down. Dinner is ready," and she led the way down-stairs. Another fairy apartment broke upon Una's astonished vision as they entered the dining-room. Small as the houses are in Walmington Square, Una, accustomed only to the small room in the hut, thought that this dining-room was large enough to be the banquet hall of princes. But, whatever surprise Una felt, she, mindful of her resolve, concealed. Not even the maid in waiting could find anything to condemn. When she went down-stairs her verdict was favorable. "Whoever she is," she said, "she's a lady. But where on earth she comes from, goodness only knows. A plain muslin dress that might have come out of the ark." Dinner was over at last. A "last" that seemed to Una an eternity. Mrs. Davenant rose and beckoned her to follow, and they went into the drawing-room. "Are you very tired, Una?" "No," said Una, thinking of her long wanderings in Warden Forest, "not tired at all, but very surprised." "Surprised?" said Mrs. Davenant, questioningly. "Yes. Do all the people in London live like this--in such beautiful houses, with people to wait upon them, and with so many things to eat, and with such pretty things in the houses?" "Not all," said Mrs. Davenant, watching the tall, graceful figure as it moved to and fro--"not all. But it would take too long to explain. You think these are pretty things; what will you say when you see the great sights--sights which we Londoners think nothing of?" Una did not answer; she had been looking round the room at the pictures, mostly portraits, on the walls. "Are these pictures of friends of yours?" she said. "Who is that?" "That? That is the portrait of a man I was speaking of in the train. That is Ralph--Squire Davenant--when he was a young man."