A voice rang out suddenly, calling her name: “Faginia! O-o-o-o Faginia! O-o-o-o Faginia!” Startled into sudden gravity, she slipped the cap into the breast of her brown stuff gown, and went to the door. “That you, father?” “Yase, ’tis. What ’n th’ name o’ goodness ’r’ you hyahhyahin’ ’bout up thar all by yo’self? Howsomdever, the beauty of the question air, thar’s a young lady down here as wants ter see you, an’ I’d never ’a’ knowed yo’ was in the house ef yo’ hadn’ been goin’ on like a wil’-cat with the stomach-ache.” “Who is it?” said Virginia. Back came the name in strident unmistakable syllables, “Miss--Ma-ry--Er-roll.” There was a second’s pause. “I’ll be down in a minute,” Virginia called back. Miss Mary Erroll was walking up and down the “front hall” in her Quorn-cloth habit, whistling softly to herself. Her short riding-skirt needed no holding up to enable her to move comfortably, and her hands were clasped behind her about her hunting-crop. Virginia, coming slowly down the many convolutions of the broad stair-way, noticed the dark sheen of the thick braid folded away under the smart little hat, the glimpse of fair cheek and throat, the thorough-bred lines of the slight figure. “Mornin’,” she said, briefly. Miss Erroll stopped in the midst of an intricate aria, unbent her red lips, and held out her hand in its loose dog-skin glove: evidently she intended to ignore the unpleasantness of their last interview. “I came to Caryston for two reasons,” she announced, cheerily. “First, to give your father a message which Mr. Roden left with me. Secondly, to bring you something, Miss Virginia. I believe you like dogs?” “Some dawgs,” said Virginia, speaking in a dull, even tone. Miss Erroll, nothing daunted, led the way to the library; she pulled off the wrappings from about a wicker basket, and lifted out a sturdy mastiff pup, who, supported across the palm of his whilom mistress’s fair hand, made ungainly motions with his great paws, as though trying to swim. “Won’t you take him, Miss Virginia? We have so many dogs at home, it would be a real kindness.” “Most likely my father ’d like to have him,” said Virginia. “I don’t have much time ter ’tend ter dawgs. I’m much obliged ter you, though.” Miss Erroll, thus rebuffed, set down the little mastiff on the floor, and pushed it with the toe of her riding-boot. One of the characteristics of this young woman was an insatiate desire for the good-will of every one. It was weak, no doubt; but, as the celebrated saying hath it, the weakness was very strong. Somehow it made Mary uncomfortable to think that the overseer’s daughter, humble though her position was, should not succumb to the charm which she chose to exert for her benefit. The unconscious little peace-offering in the mean time was making abortive efforts to peer into every object out of his reach which the room contained.