Hilda came in and walked up to him. She put her hand in his with all the pretty gravity he remembered in the child. Odd took the other hand too and stared at her. He was conscious then of being very much excited, and conscious that she was not. Her eyes were "big and vague," but they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, and the vagueness was only in a certain lack of expression, for they looked straight into his. Carried along by that first impulse of excitement, despite the little shock of half-felt disappointment, Peter bent his head and kissed her on each cheek. "Bravo!" said Katherine, still striking soft chords at the piano, "Bravo, Mr. Odd! considering your first meeting and your last parting, you have a right to that!" And Katherine laughed pleasantly, though she was a trifle displeased. "Yes, I have, haven't I?" said Peter, smiling. He still held Hilda's hands. The little flush that had come to her cheeks when he had kissed her was gone, and she looked very white. "Are you glad to see me, Hilda?" he asked; "I beg your pardon, but it comes naturally to call you that." "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Odd," Hilda smiled. Her voice was very like the child's voice saying, "I thank you very much," ten years ago. The same voice, grave and gentle. Odd had expected some little warmth, some little embarrassment even, in the girl, considering the parting from the child. But Hilda did not show any warmth, neither did she seem at all embarrassed, and Odd felt rather as one does when an unnecessary downward stride reveals level ground where one expected another step. He had stumbled a little, and now, half ruefully, half humorously, he considered the child Hilda grown up. She sat down near her mother. "I am so sorry. I am afraid you waited for me," she said, bending towards her; "I really couldn't help it, mamma." "No, I think it kindest to consider you irresponsible; there is certainly an element of insanity in your exaggerated devotion to your work." Mrs. Archinard smiled acidly, and Hilda, Odd thought, did look a little embarrassed now. He had adjusted himself to the reality of the present, and was able to study her. The same Botticelli Madonna mouth, the same Gainsborough eyes; the skin of dazzling whiteness--an almost unnatural white--but she was evidently tired. Certainly her black gown looked strangely beside Katherine's velvet, Mrs. Archinard's silk and laces. Odd saw that there was mud on the skirt, a very short skirt, and Hilda's legs were very long. She had walked, then. His own paternal solicitude struck him as amusing, and rather touching, as he glanced at her slim feet, to see with satisfaction that wet boots had been replaced by patent-leather shoes--heelless little shoes.