ry much surprised to see me here," he said. "I'm
somewhat surprised to be here myself. I've spent a greater part of the
past month in New York and have only just returned--that is, to stay. I
fully intended to call before, and should if I had been in town. How are
you getting on? How do you like the dear old place? Ah!" with a sigh, as
he seated himself and looked about him, "how familiar it all seems!"

The Dotts looked at each other. Serena sank into a chair. Captain Dan
remained standing.

"Does it?" said the former rather feebly.

"Indeed it does. One almost expects to see Auntie coming in at the door.
Dear old Auntie! I can scarcely realize that she has gone."

Again Serena looked at Daniel and he at her. This was so strange,
so different from the attitude which a disappointed legatee might be
expected to assume that neither of the pair knew exactly how to reply.
But Mr. Hungerford did not appear to notice the look or the hesitation.

"This house seems like home to me," he said. "I've spent so many happy
hours here. When old Hapgood opened the door for me I almost ordered him
to take my bags to my room. Really I did. That would have been droll,
wouldn't it?"

He laughed languidly. Serena admitted that it would have been droll.
Captain Dan remained silent as before.

"Are--are you stopping at the hotel?" queried Mrs. Dott.

"Not yet. In fact, I'm not really stopping anywhere. I've just arrived.
I must be hurrying back to dinner, I suppose, but I couldn't resist
coming here first. It seemed the natural thing to do."

Voices were heard in the hall. One of the voices was Azuba's; she was
informing Mr. Hapgood that if that soup didn't go back on the stove
pretty soon it might just as well be on ice. The words were distinctly
audible, and Serena colored. Mr. Hungerford rose.

"I'm sure I must be keeping you from your own dinner," he said. "Don't
let me do that for the world."

"Why--why--" faltered Serena. She looked appealingly at Daniel, and the
latter's instinctive hospitality asserted itself. He had disliked the
young man "Tacks" when he met him in the Rathskeller. Now that "Tacks"
had become Mr. Percy Hungerford, Aunt Lavinia's cousin and his own
distant relative, the dislike was only partially abated. But to turn him
away from the door hungry seemed wrong somehow.

"Hadn't you better--" he began.

"Have dinner with us?" finished his wife.

Mr. Hungerford protested.

"Oh, I couldn't think of it," h