Chester Humphreys gladly accepted the invitation, privately wondering if Ladybird were allowed to sit up to dinner. A few moments later, light footsteps crossed the veranda, and a flushed and smiling young woman entered the room quickly. "How do you do, Miss Dorinda?" she said. "How do you do, Miss Flint? Is Ladybird ill?" "No," said Miss Priscilla, rising, and looking severe. "What nonsense has that child been up to now? But first, Stella, may I present Mr. Humphreys? Miss Russell, Mr. Chester Humphreys." Ladybird's description of her friend had been inadequate. Chester Humphreys, though a man of no little experience, felt sure he had never before seen such a beautiful girl. Tall and graceful, with soft, dark hair and eyes, Stella had, moreover, a wonderful charm of her own, and her perfect features were merely a setting for an exquisite and individual beauty which young Humphreys had never seen equaled. "Ladybird sent for me," said Stella; "she sent a note by Jackson saying she was not well, and nothing would help her but for me to come over to dinner. So I came." "Where did she see Jackson?" said Miss Priscilla. "That's the funny part of it," said Stella. "He was passing the house, and she called to him from her window; so I hurried over at once. May I see her?" "She is not ill at all," said Miss Priscilla. "Oh, yes I am, aunty," cried a roguish voice, and Ladybird flew into the room. She was dressed in her new red frock, her eyes were starry and dancing, and Cloppy was perched on her shoulder. He wore a red neck-ribbon, and a festive air generally. "I'm awful miserable, aunty," Ladybird went on: "I have a misery in my foot; but I'm so glad to see Stella that it may cure it. She may stay to dinner, mayn't she, aunty?" Taken thus by storm, Miss Flint could only say yes. So Stella stayed. Such a merry dinner as it was! Ladybird was in her element. She made such droll remarks, and her gaiety was so infectious, that Chester Humphreys appeared quite at his best; and his best was very good indeed. Stella looked radiant, and met Mr. Humphreys's banter with a pretty, graceful wit of her own. The Flint ladies, though a little bewildered, were affected by the general joyousness of the atmosphere, and beamed most amiably. After dinner they all sat on the veranda. "Stella might sing for us," suggested Ladybird, in an insinuating tone. "I might," said Stella, calmly, "if I thought any one would listen to me; but I fear you would all run away, except Ladybird; she, I believe, really enjoys my songs." "I can sing a little, too," said Mr. Humphreys; "we might warble together." "No," said Stella, "I can't sing, really; but if I had my banjo here, I could play accompaniments for you to sing, Mr. Humphreys." "Your banjo _is_ here," said Ladybird; "you left it here day before yesterday." "Did I?" said Stella. "Well, I shall be glad to pick at it, if Mr. Humphreys will sing."