So the day drew near for Leonora's arrival, and the great house was now filled with guests--twenty in all--whom Lady Lancaster had bidden to the feast, prepared in honor of her nephew, the Lord of Lancaster. So the day was come at last, and Lady Lancaster in the drawing-room awaited her nephew, while the housekeeper in the kitchen awaited her niece. It was one of the most beautiful of June days. The air was sweet and warm, the sky was clear and blue, all nature seemed to smile on the home-coming of the master. Mrs. West, having given her orders in the kitchen, repaired to her own special sitting-room, a small apartment on the second floor, with a sunny window looking out upon the rear grounds of the house. She had put a bouquet of roses in a vase on the mantel, and some small pots of simple, sweet-smelling flowers on the window-sill, to brighten up the place for the child's eyes. "It will look so cheerful. Children always love flowers," she said. She pulled forward a pretty little child's rocking-chair that she had brought down from the immense garret. She arranged a pretty little red-and-white tidy over the back. "In a little while they will be here, for John went to meet them with the carriage a good while ago," she said to herself. "Dear me, how nervous I am getting over that child's coming." And she settled her lace cap again and looked into the small mirror against the wall, wondering how Dick's child would like her aunt's looks. "Dear me, Mrs. West, I did not think you were so vain," said a laughing masculine voice. She turned around quickly. "Oh, my lord, so you're come home again!" she cried; "and as full of your mischief as ever. Welcome, welcome!" "Yes, I am home again, Mrs. West, and here is what I have brought you," he said, stepping back that she might see the girl who had followed him into the room--the graceful figure in deep black, that came up to her with both hands outstretched, and said, demurely: "How do you do, Aunt West?" For a minute Mrs. West did not touch the pretty white hands held out to her, she was so amazed and surprised. She managed to stammer out faintly: "Are you Leonora West? I--I was expecting to see a very young child." The bright face dimpled charmingly. "That was a mistake," she said. "I hope you will not be vexed because I am so large!" CHAPTER XVII. "But," said Mrs. West, in perplexity, "the letter said a little girl." "Yes, I know," said Leonora. "Poor papa always called me his little girl, and if he had lived until I was an old woman it would have been the same. And he forgot that you could not possibly know how old I was. I'm sorry you are disappointed, Aunt West, but I am eighteen years old. You see, papa was married one year after he went to America--and--" Just here Captain Lancaster interposed: "Aren't you going to kiss your niece, Mrs. West?"