"Well when did you have dinner?" said Mrs. Derrick, resolved upon doing something. "Yesterday," was his quiet reply. "To-day I have been in the cars." "O my! my!" said Mrs. Derrick,--"then of course we'll have tea at once. Faith!" "I'm here, mother. I'll go and see to it, right away." But in some mysterious manner the stranger reached the doorway before either of the ladies. "Mrs. Derrick--Miss Faith--I told you that I had had no dinner, and that was true. It is also true that I am in not the least hurry for tea. Please do not have it until your usual time." And he walked back to his seat. But after the slightest possible pause of hesitancy, Faith had disappeared. Her mother followed her. "Child," she said, "what on earth is his name?" "Mother! how should I know? I didn't ask him." "But the thing is," said Mrs. Derrick, "I _did_ know,--the Committee told me all about it. And of course he thinks I know, and I don't--no more than I do my great-grandmother's name, which I never did remember yet." "Mother--shall I go and ask him?--or wait till after supper?" "O you sha'n't go," said her mother. "Wait till after supper and we'll send Cindy. He won't care about his name till he gets his tea, I'll warrant. But what made you so long getting the door open, child? Does it stick?" "Why," said Faith, baring her arms and entering upon sundry quick movements about the room, "it _was_ open and he didn't know it." "Didn't know it!" said Mrs. Derrick,--"my! I hope he ain't short-sighted. Now Faith, I'm not going to have you burn your face for all the school teachers in Connecticut. Keep away, child, I'll put on the kettle myself. Cindy must have found her beau again--it's as tiresome as tiresome can be." "It's just as well, mother; I'd rather do it myself. Now you go in and find what his name is, and I'll have everything together directly. The oven's hot now." "I'll go in presently," said Mrs. Derrick; "but as to asking him what his name is--la, child, I'd just as soon ask him where he came from." And in deep thought on the subject, Mrs. Derrick stepped briskly about the kitchen. "Faith," she said, "where shall I ask him to sit?" "Will you pour out tea--or shall I, mother?" "What's that to do?" "Why I was thinking--but it don't matter where you put him. There's four sides to the table." "Don't talk of my putting him anywhere, child--I'm as afraid of him as can be." And Mrs. Derrick went back to see how time went with her guest. It went fast or slow, I suppose, after all, somewhat according to the state of his appetite. One hour and ten minutes certainly had slipped away--if he was hungry he knew that another ten minutes was following in train--when at length the parlour door opened again and Faith stood there, with a white apron on and cheeks a good deal heightened in colour since the date of their last appearance.