It is curious how many little things manage to get across into one’s consciousness at a time like this. How, for instance, did Cornelia in the kitchen, taking up the cutlets and placing them on the hot plates, know just the precise instant when Brand Barlock’s car drew up before the door, and Carey’s clear whistle in the third story ceased? She felt it even before the door opened and Louise’s excited whisper announced: “He’s come, Nellie! Hurry!” and she was even then unbuttoning the big enveloping apron and hurrying forward. So she met Brand Barlock at the front door with a welcoming hand outstretched to greet him, and a hearty low-voiced “I’m so glad you could come! Carey doesn’t know about it yet, but I expect he’ll see your car out of his window. He’s upstairs dressing. Come in. Let me take your hat. Mr. Barlock, let me introduce Miss Kendall and Miss Dodd.” Brand Barlock stared. First at Cornelia, swiftly, approvingly, and with an answering smile for her cordial one; then at the lovely room which he entered, and gave a swift, comprehensive survey; and then at the lovely girl in blue who came forward to greet him. “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure!” he said giving her a direct appraisement, a respectful interest, and shaking her hand quite unnecessarily. He was entirely at his ease, and altogether accustomed to rapid adjustments to environment one could see that at once; yet it was also perceptible that he was surprised, and agreeably so. He held Grace Kendall’s slim young hand impressively, a trifle longer than was in keeping with polite usage, yet not long enough to be resented; and his eyes made several sentences progress in acquaintance with her before he took them from her face and let them rest upon Miss Dodd, who had at last risen with some show of interest in life again and come a step or two forward. Then he stared again. “Oh! Hello, Clytie! You here?” he greeted her carelessly, and went and sat down beside Miss Kendall. His tone said that Clytie Dodd was decidedly out of her element, and suddenly under the heavy veneer of white Clytie Dodd grew deeply red. Cornelia with a glance took in all these things, and a wave of sudden compassion swept over her, too, for the girl whom she had thus placed in a trying position. Had she done well? She could not tell. But it was too late now. She must go forward and make it a success. She tried to make it up by smiling at the girl pleasantly. “Now, if you will just talk a minute or two, I think Carey will be down soon. It is time for father’s car to come, and we’ll have dinner at once.” Cornelia disappeared through the dining-room door again. Just at that precise moment Arthur Maxwell slowed up his car at the corner where Mr. Copley’s trolley was about to stop, and looked perplexedly about him, studying the houses on either side.