The stranger received the sudden charge with a gravity that at once established him high in the fun-loving Greys' good opinion. Steadying himself against the casement he caught Frances in time to save her from being dashed headforemost down the low steps, and helped her to regain her feet. "Customs have changed in the States since I left home," Lester said quietly. "We exceed the hospitality of the East--there the arriving guests are never offered more than tea, water for their hands and, possibly, flowers." All five girls burst into such a peal of laughter that old Mrs. Dinsmore, the lawyer's mother, passing on the opposite side of the street, laughed to herself till she had long passed the little grey house. "That reception was caused by the one Japanese member of our family," said Wythie. "Our white cat, Kiku-san, being timid, retreated from your presence and upset Frances." "Kiku--chrysanthemum?" suggested Lester Baldwin. "Nice name for a white cat, but I was not prepared to find you speaking Japanese here." "We have spoken all we know of it in naming Kiku. Won't you walk into our parlour? We are not spiders," said Rob. "Prudy, please tell Mardy we are come." Prue disappeared, and the others entered the beautiful parlour of the little grey house. For it was a beautiful room with its extreme simplicity of green walls and high white wainscoting, its splendid old mahogany, fine pictures, books, and with the logs burning on the hearth, which the October wind made it just cool enough indoors to warrant. Lester Baldwin threw himself into a hospitable chair with a long breath of appreciation. "I see why Uncle John said they had hard work to keep you at home, Hessie, and why you never dream of living in marble halls, but rather in a little grey house." "Don't you?" said Hester, pulling out the fingers of her gloves, as she stood with one foot extended towards the warmth of the fire for the mere luxury of it, and not because she was in the least cold. "And you don't know it all yet." "My cousin doesn't mean that for slang, Miss Roberta," said Lester Baldwin. "Thanks," remarked Rob. "We love to have people like our house. There is something in the dear little old thing that I can't get anywhere else--Maybe it's my own love for it," she added. "No, it's quality," said young Baldwin. "It has an atmosphere that is quite indescribable that is partly the result of your love for it, no doubt, but it is also the very delightful architecture of the house, its simplicity and harmony, and its venerableness. An artist would envy you it, Miss Roberta." "Oh, I forgot for the moment that you were an architect," cried Rob, beaming gratefully upon him.