"No, no," Lady Vera says, hastily, as he crosses to the door, her haughtiness melting for the moment under his chivalrous manner. "We will both stay--that is, I can only give the children a moment. I am going to a ball." "So am I, directly, with my sister and Sir Harry. It is very strange Nella did not tell me she had a young lady guest. I am," smiling under the brown mustache, "puzzled over your name." "It is Vera Campbell," she answers, with a slight flush. "_Lady_ Vera," pipes the prim nurse from her corner, obsequiously. "Lady Vera," he says, with a bow and smile; then: "Thank you for the favor. Mine is Philip Lockhart." "Captain Phil," shouts Mark, anxious that his uncle shall abate no jot of his soldierly dignity. "He has brought us a great big box," Dot confides to Lady Vera, triumphantly at this moment. "Which I will leave him to open. My maid has not finished me yet," fibs Vera, and so makes her escape, leaving Captain Phil to the tender mercies of his small relatives, who give him no peace until the heavy box is unpacked, and its contents paraded before their dazzled and rejoicing sight. Meanwhile Vera secures her opera-cloak, and goes down to the drawing-room, where the earl and Sir Harry are waiting for the ladies. "Nella will be here in a moment," explains Sir Harry. "She has gone to hurry up her brother, over whom the children are having no end of a jollification. Oh, I forgot, you may not know whom I am talking about. Lady Clive's brother arrived this evening, and will accompany us to Lady Ford's ball." Vera bows silently, and presently Lady Clive sails in, proudly, with the truant in tow. Evening dress is marvelously becoming to the handsome soldier. Involuntarily Vera thinks of Sir Launcelot: "The goodliest man that ever among ladies sat in hall, And noblest." "Lady Vera, this is my brother, Captain Lockhart," Lady Clive begins, with conscious pride; then pauses, disconcerted by the "still, soft smile" creeping over either face. "We have met before," Lady Vera explains, with, for her, unusual graciousness. "Met before! Not in America?" cried Lady Clive, bewildered. "Oh, no," her brother answers, and Lady Vera adds, smiling: "In the nursery, ten minutes ago." So there is only the earl to introduce, and then they are whirled away to Lady Ford's, where Captain Lockhart meets a score of last season's friends, and to the surprise of Lady Vera, who is prejudiced against almost anything American, he develops some of the graces of a society man, even playing and singing superbly in a full, rich tenor voice. "Yet, why should he have selected that old, _old_ song: 'The Banks of Allan Water?'" Lady Vera asks herself, scornfully, "and when he sang: "'For his bride a soldier sought her,' why should he have looked so straight at _me_? It was not an impertinent look, I own, but why should he have looked at me at all?"