"Never mind!" ejaculated Mrs. Lem, in an altered tone. "Tell me, does my Boston look all right?" One trembling hand patted the imposing erection of shining black hair, while with the other the speaker pulled the open-mouthed Minty away from the window. "Now don't you never tell what we thought, Minty Foster, not if wild horses was to drag you. _Remember!_" "All--all right," gasped the child, "but"-- "They ain't no but. The cap'n 's been playin' smart again an' fooled us. Don't you let on, Minty--never, _never_." The series of jerks which accompanied the rapid flow of words was too energetic for Minty to retain sufficient breath to let on anything. Her mother trailed the brilliantine across the room with a self-command and return of composure truly remarkable, and throwing open the door, met the grave gaze of the guest with unsmiling majesty. "How do you do, Mrs. Lem?" said Thinkright. "This is my young cousin, Sylvia Lacey, who is going to make us a visit. And this little girl is Minty Foster, Sylvia." "Glad to see you, I'm sure, Miss Lacey," returned Mrs. Lem, giving the offered hand a loose shake. "Won't you step in?" Minty said no word, but stared at the new-comer fixedly. The house door opened directly into the kitchen. "We don't use front doors much in this part of the world," observed Thinkright, as he ushered in the guest. "Will you step into the front room, Miss Lacey?" asked Mrs. Lem, with a grand air, "or would you prefer to go directly upstairs to your chamber?" There was an atmosphere of the world about Sylvia which Mrs. Lem recognized at once from long experience with summer people; and secure in her pompadour, the psyche knot, and the shine of her best gown, she wished to show this young girl that her sophistication was shared even in a rural district. To be sure, the extraordinary telegram from Thinkright had left the family free to believe that it was a personage whom he was bringing home with him--probably some important friend of Judge Trent; and to have their varied guesses met by the fact of a white-faced girl in mourning was disappointing. Nevertheless, to Mrs. Lem's suspicious eyes Sylvia had a cold, proud air, which caused the housekeeper to glory in her toilet and be grateful for her knowledge of the world. It should be Greek meeting Greek. "Oh, she'll go to her room," said Thinkright. "Cap'n Lem and I will bring her trunk and satchel right up. Supper's nearly ready, I suppose, Mrs. Lem?" "Whenever you are," returned that lady elegantly. "I will accompany you, Miss Lacey." Minty, though she said no word, prepared to follow, apparently not able to remove her round gaze from the visitor. "You may make the toast, Minty," said her mother warningly, and the child took a reluctant step backward. Sylvia followed the brilliantine up a narrow staircase. "You're from Boston, I presume, Miss Lacey?" "Yes, just now," returned Sylvia. "Not your home, then?" "No." "There. Walk in. This is your chamber."