She alighted, tears very near her eyes, and passing through the gates and tiny front garden, rang the bell. The door was opened by a common-looking, undersized girl of about her own age, dressed in a tartan blouse and a brown stuff skirt. Her nose was snub, her mouth wide, her forehead bulged, and her skimpy hair was buckled up tight with combs on the top of her head. There was a moment's breathless silence as the two girls stared at each other. At last Unity's face broke into a miracle of gladness, which transfigured her plain features. She retreated a step or two along the passage. “Miss Stella! Miss Stella!” she gasped, and as Stella, still more amazed and bewildered, said nothing, she drew nearer. “It is Miss Stella, is n't it?” she asked. “Yes,” Stella answered. She paused; then, recovering herself, went on rather hurriedly: “I 've seen you before. You are the girl who came once into my room--I remember--Constable tore my jacket--you were mending it--” “Yes, miss,” said the other, forgetful, in the sudden excitement of again seeing her goddess face to face, of the precepts of gentility in which Miss Lindon had trained her. “It all comes back, though it was long, long ago--ever so many years ago. Your name is Unity.” “Yes, Miss Stella.” “But what in the world are you doing here?” “Mr. Risca is my guardian. I keep house for him--I and Aunt Gladys.” “Aunt Gladys?” “Mr. Risca's aunt, Miss Stella.” It was sweet to pronounce the beautiful name. Stella's knees grew weak, and she leaned against the wall. Here were mysteries of which John had left her in ignorance. She felt guilty of unwarrantable intrusion. The joy of her adventure was blotted out. The shabby villa; the poverty-stricken passage; the glimpse through an open door into a gimcrack parlour, all bamboo and ribbons; Unity, the little sewing-girl who was John's ward; the unheard of Aunt Gladys--all was shock, sending dreams into limbo, startling an unready mind into a whirling chaos of conjecture. Too late she realized that, had he wanted her there, he would have invited her. He would be vexed at her coming. Her cheeks burned. “Is he at home?” she faltered. She heard with incredible relief that he had gone into town on business. Miss Lindon happening to be in bed with a slight cold, the duties of hospitality devolved on Unity. “Won't you come in and sit down for a minute, Miss Stella?” “I am afraid I must n't.” “Oh, why? Do come.” Unity stretched out her hand timidly. The gesture and the pleading in the girl's eyes made a strong appeal. Youth also called to youth. “Just for a minute. It would make me so happy.” Stella could not refuse. They entered the little drawing-room. Stella had never seen such a funny, prim room before. She sat down on the slippery sofa. Unity fixed on her the eyes of a spaniel brought into the presence of a long-lost mistress. “I think you 're even more beautiful than when I saw you before,” she said, abruptly.