It was when Jeannette herself spread forth upon the little dressing-table--cleverly contrived out of an old washstand, a long and narrow mirror, and some odds and ends of muslin and lace--the articles she was accustomed to use every day of her life, but which might have been matched only in the homes of princes, that the young hostess found it hardest to control the pang of envy which smote her. Such silver, such crystal, such genuine ivory--and such sheer beauty of design and finish! Yet Jeannette was almost awkward in her disposal of the imposing array, saying with a laugh that she really couldn't remember how the things went at home, but that it didn't matter in the least. She set about removing her traveling clothes as if she never had been waited upon in her life. It was only when she failed to discover how she was put together that Georgiana had to come to the rescue. "It's dreadfully stupid of me," protested Jeannette, her delicate cheeks flushing, "but I simply can't find that absurd hook." It was then that Georgiana frankly took the situation by its horns and did away with all embarrassment. "You must let me help you, Jean," she said, finishing the unhooking with ease, "whenever you need it. I shall love to do it, for you might have rather a bad time trying to do everything for yourself. There you are--and please call me when you are ready to be fastened into your other frock. I'm just around the corner, and there's nobody else at home now." Before supper was served, Georgiana prepared her cousin to meet "the boarder." Not on any account would she have let his presence be accounted for on the score of his being a guest in the house; not even would she call him a "paying guest." "Mr. Jefferson came to us through a letter from a friend. He said he wanted a quiet place to work in, away from all interruptions by friends or claims of any sort. He is writing a book, and we see as little of him as if he were not in the house--except at the table. I think you will like him. It's so long since we have had a man in the house we're not yet used to it, but on the whole it's rather comforting." "How interesting--to have a book being written in the house! Is it fact or fiction, do you know?" "I don't imagine it's fiction. He has piles of reference books, and a great deal of mail, and--somehow--he doesn't look as if he wrote fiction."