Jonas and I were in the kitchen; we were excellent friends. I was busy buttering some toast, which he was making at the nice, bright, little fire. Tea had been made and it was drawing on the top of the range. There was a snowy-white cloth on the little tray, and when enough buttered toast had been made I was going to carry the tray into the drawing-room, for Aunt Penelope liked me to do this, in order to save Buttons and give him more time to "look after the garden," as she expressed it. We were so employed, and were fairly happy, although we both knew quite well that I must shortly take my leave, and that the little house would have to do without me--that Jonas would have nobody to help him, and that Aunt Penelope would miss me every hour of the day. Well, as we were thus occupied, I suddenly heard someone run up the steps which led to the front door. There were four or five steps, rather steep ones. The person who ascended now must have been young and agile, for there was quite a ringing sound as each step was surmounted. Then there came a pull at the bell and a sharp, very quick "rat-tat" on the front door. "Miss Heather, who can it be?" said Jonas. He had his toasting-fork in his hand and a great slice of tempting brown toast, which he was just finishing, on the edge of it; his round, very blue eyes were fixed on my face. For no earthly reason that anyone can tell I felt myself changing colour, and I knew that my heart began to beat in a very queer and excitable way. "What can it be?" repeated Jonas. "It's a man, by the step. I'll take a peep out by the area." "Oh no, Jonas, you mustn't," I said; but I might as well have spoken to the wind. Jonas, toasting-fork, toast and all, were out of sight. The next minute he came tiptoeing back. "It's as smart a young gent as I ever laid eyes on," he said. "Miss Heather, for the Lord's sake slip upstairs and put on your best 'Sunday-go-to-meeting' dress and tidy your 'air, miss, it's ruffled from doing things in the kitchen, and take the smut off your cheek, and--there! I mustn't keep him waiting any longer. He be a bloomin' fine boy and no mistake." "Let me pass you, Jonas; I'll go first," I said, and in this fashion we both left the kitchen, I rushed to my room--I wasn't above taking a hint from Jonas; soon one of my pretty frocks, which I used to wear at Lady Helen's, was on once more, a white embroidered collar encircled my throat, my hair was tidily arranged, the obnoxious smut removed, and I came slowly downstairs. Jonas was waiting for me on the bottom step.