When I got back to Rachel's and burst into the drawing-room with a radiant face, I heard a grunt like a groan. It was from Jim in the twilight near Rachel at the tea-table. "I'm going out to service to-morrow," said I to Rachel. "So you're to be rid of your visitor at last." "Oh, Gus!" exclaimed Rachel between anger and tears. And Jim looked black and sullen. But I was happy--and am to-night. Happy for the first time in two years. I'm going to _do_ something--and it is something that interests me. I'm going to launch a fine stately ship, a full-rigged four-master in this big-little sea of Washington society. What a sensation I can make with it among the pretty holiday boats! II December 6. Last Monday morning young Mr. Burke--Cyrus, the son and heir--arrived, just from Germany. The first glimpse I had of him was as he entered the house between his father and his mother, who had gone to the station to meet him. I got myself out of the way and didn't come down until "ma" Burke sent for me. I liked the way she was sitting there beaming--but then, I like almost everything she does; she's such a large, natural person. She never stands, except on her way to sit just as soon as ever she can. "I never was a great hand for using my feet," she said to me on my second day, "and I don't know but about as much seems to 'a' come to find me as most people catch up with by running their legs off." I liked the way her son was hovering about her. And I liked the way "pa" Burke hovered round them both, nervous and pulling at his whiskers and trying to think of things to say--if he only wouldn't use brilliantine, or whatever it is, on his whiskers! "Cyrus, this is my friend, Miss Talltowers," said Mrs. Burke. I smiled and he clapped his heels together with a click and doubled up as if he had a sudden pain in his middle, just like all the northern Continental diplomats. When he straightened back to the normal I took a good look at him--and he at me. I don't know--or, rather, didn't then know--what _he_ thought. But I thought him--well, "common." He has a great big body that's strong and well-proportioned; but his features are so insignificant--a small mouth, a small nose, small ears, eyes, forehead, small head. And there, in the very worst place--just where the part ought to be--was the cowlick I'd noticed in his photograph. When he began to speak I liked him still less. He's been at Berlin three years, but still has his Harvard accent. I wonder why they teach men at Harvard to use their lips in making words as a Miss Nancy sort of man uses his fingers in doing fancy work?