Dora looked up at him rather curiously from under her white eyelids as he came into the room, holding his head high and carrying himself as though he knew the world was before him. He returned Mr. Cunningham's affectionate greeting in a frank, off-hand way. "Well, Garth, you are rather a stranger to the vicarage; but I am glad to see you here again, my dear fellow. How are the sisters? and how is that young scapegrace of a Ted?" "All well, and I only wish you could say the same, Mr. Cunningham," began Garth heartily; but, as the Vicar sighed heavily, Dora shook her fair head at him. "Poor dear Flo!" she said softly, as though speaking out her father's thought. "But papa must eat his dinner, and then he has some business on which to consult you, Mr. Clayton; troubles will always keep, and it is no good papa spoiling his digestion by dwelling on them, is it?" finished Dora with tranquil philosophy, and Garth took the hint. There was no sad talk after that. The Vicar still shook his head lugubriously at intervals, but he did ample justice to the excellent repast before him, and even brought up some Hermitage with his own hands for Garth to taste. The young man drank it with a little show of indifference, more assumed than real. It was not that the rarity and flavor of Mr. Cunningham's wine pleased him, but that the attention shown him made him a little dizzy. More than once some favorite dish for which he had expressed a predilection had been brought to him. "I knew you would like this Mayonnaise. Mrs. Gilbert has made it exactly to your taste," Dora said to him with an engaging smile. Garth, who was only human, and not yet thirty, felt the delicate flattery thrill through him like a personal compliment. He was sorry when Dora left the room, and Mr. Cunningham drew his chair nearer and plunged into the business that required his assistance. With all his good nature and natural aptitude for these sort of things, he found it very difficult to lend his undivided attention. "Why did she prepare that pudding with the pine-apple sauce with her own hands, because Mrs. Gilbert would have spoiled it?" he thought, as he balanced his spoon idly on the edge of his coffee-cup, thereby imperilling Mr. Cunningham's favorite Wedgewood. She had never condescended to show him such honor before; no wonder he was dizzy, and turned rather a deaf ear on the Vicar's tedious explanations. His absent, fidgetty demeanor attracted the attention of his host after a time. "I am keeping you too long with all these bothering details, you want to be in the next room," he said, with a meaning smile, over which the young man blushed hotly. "Not until you have finished with me. Is there anything more that I can do in your absence?" he stammered, feeling a little foolish and crest-fallen.