Mr Durrant arrived at the Brown House on Sunday afternoon. It was a day when few visitors were expected. Mr Starling, having gone to church in the morning, invariably spent the afternoon lying back in a cosy corner of the green-house, smoking and reading a Sunday newspaper. He was by no means an irreligious man, but he liked his ease on Sunday, being under the supposition that he worked extremely hard during the week days. Mrs Starling spent Sunday afternoon lying down and imagining herself a little worse than usual. Miss Felicia sat in the drawing-room, and Violet and Rose played on the lawn. They were quite good little children and never made any unruly noise-- that is, except when Robina was at home. Robina brought a disturbing element into their young lives: but now that she was gone, and Bo-peep was gone, the entire Starling family had settled down into their ordinary habits. The day was an intensely hot one, and when Mr Durrant appeared on the scene, he stood still for a minute to wipe the moisture from his brow. "Hallo, little 'un!" he said to Rose who, not at all shy, toddled up to him. "What's 'oo want, g'ate big man?" was her inquiry. "I want your father, or your mother, or your aunt," was Malcolm Durrant's reply. "I want some one who can tell me something. Now I know you can't, because you're too small." "There's my auntie in the drawing-room," said Violet at that moment. Violet by no means wished Rose to monopolise the stranger. "She'll say `Don't' if you has mud on your boots: but you hasn't, they is quite clean." "Only dusty," said Rose. "Let's dust 'em." She knelt down as she spoke, and, taking the skirt of her little white frock, began to remove the dust from the stranger's boots. "Don't, Rose! Rose, how dare you!" called a shrill voice from the drawing-room, and Miss Felicia made her appearance through the open window. "How do you do, sir," she said. "I must apologise for my niece. Really, Rose, your conduct is disgraceful. Go away at once to the nursery and get your frock changed; what a dreadful mess you are in!" "Poor little one!" said Malcolm Durrant. "She but did what her sex did before her for the Saviour of all the world. Forgive her, madam." He spoke in a very courteous tone, and, raising his hat, exhibited a noble brow and features which at once puzzled Miss Felicia and caused her heart to beat. "Won't you come indoors, sir?" she said. "And don't `don't' him, please auntie!" said Violet. But Miss Felicia, agitated, she knew not why, did not even hear her. She conducted the stranger into the little drawing-room. "Sit down, sir," she said. "And now, may I ask your name. You have, of course, come to see my brother-in-law on business. I can call him in a moment; but first, would you not like something to drink?"