It was not the voice the young man had heard in Hyde Park, nor was it the voice of Miss Foldal; on the contrary, it was direct, searching, rather aggressive in quality. There was ease and confidence in it, there was humor and archness. It was a voice of hyper-refinement, of Miss Foldal receiving company, raised to a higher, more dominant power. "Yes, that's the one. By a Member of the Aristocracy. At least it says it is. And if it isn't, I get my money back, don't I?" The flash of teeth and the smile that followed startled the young man considerably. He blushed to the roots of his hair. This was a new kind of lady altogether and he didn't know in the least how he was going to cope with her. "Thanks very much." Elegantly the sum of one shilling was disbursed from a very smart reticule. That, however, was not the conclusion of the incident. "Excuse me," said the lady, "but you are Mr. Harper, aren't you?" Blushing again he admitted very humbly that he was. "Yes, you look clever. I'm Cora Dobbs. You know Auntie, I think." With a blush deepening to a hue that was quite nice the young man said he knew Miss Dobbs' aunt. "She's a rum one, isn't she?" The sudden friendliness was overpowering. The young man, not knowing what to say, said nothing. Thus far he had been on the high seas with _Dick Smith_ and the brigantine _Excelsior_, but he was quickly coming to dry land, to London, to the Charing Cross Road. So this was the niece of whom Mrs. Greaves thought so much. Henry Harper could understand the charlady's pride in her, but it was very surprising that she should be the niece of Mrs. Greaves. She was something totally different. In manner she was even more refined than Miss Foldal herself, although in some ways she had a slight resemblance to his good fairy. But Miss Dobbs had a candor, a humor and a charm quite new in Henry Harper's very limited social experience. She was really most agreeable; also her clothes, if not exactly Hyde Park, were so fine that they must have cost a great deal of money. So much for Miss Dobbs in the sight of Mr. Harper. As for Mr. Harper in the sight of Miss Dobbs, that was a very different matter. He was not bad looking; he was tall, well-made, clean, his eyes were good. But their queer expression could only mean that he was as weak as water and as green as grass. Evidently he hardly knew he had come on to the earth. Also he was as shy as a baby and his trousers wanted ironing badly. "I have heard quite a lot about you, Mr. Harper, from my aunt."