Craig did not ask any more about the daisy. He felt sure it was Alice, the cousin, from Rocky Point, of which place he had never heard. He was not as much interested in her as he was in the ‘t’other one,’ who occupied more of his thoughts than he would like to confess. He remembered his prejudice against her as a heartless coquette, and his declining to call upon her when asked to do so in Saratoga. But she was here in the same house with him and it was incumbent upon him as a gentleman to treat her with some attention. She might not be as bad as she was painted; at all events, he would like to see her, and he had found himself taking more pains than usual with his toilet. He was always faultlessly neat in his person and attire, especially in the matter of collars and cuffs, and this morning he had tried and discarded two or three pairs, and as many neckties, before he was satisfied that his _tout-ensemble_ was all that could be expected in a country tavern. He had looked for Jeff to give an extra polish to his shoes, but not finding him, had put on a pair of tans, and felt himself quite _au fait_ and ready to cope with the young lady who, rumor said, had lured so many men to her feet only to be refused. He had no intention of following their example. He expected to amuse himself and be relieved from the ennui which was beginning to affect him in the quiet place. As he was leaving the office the maid came in to drop a postal in the box. She was a trim little black-eyed French girl, who, in her bright plaid dress, high-heeled slippers and red stockings, looked very pretty and picturesque. “Good mornin’, Miss—er—What is your name,” was Uncle Zacheus’ salutation. “Celine, monsieur,” was the girl’s reply. “Oh, yes; to be sure. Mooseer, I think you said. I didn’t quite catch it. Uncommon name. Miss Mooseer, this is Mr. Craig Mason from Boston. Mr. Mason, Miss Mooseer, I hope you’ll be good friends,” and Uncle Zacheus waved his hand in a friendly way from one to the other. Craig was too much of a gentleman to laugh, but there was a gleam of merriment in his eyes as he bowed to the girl, and an answering gleam in hers as she curtsied and said, “_Bon Jour, monsieur_,” and hurried away. “What did she say?” Uncle Zacheus asked, and Craig replied, “She wished me good morning, in French.” “Oh, yes; wall, I don’t understand French very well. Pretty little filly, but you or’to see t’other one,” was Uncle Zach’s response, as Craig left the office, thinking, “I’ve been introduced to the maid, and now I’d like to see her mistress.”