made the angry little lady a
courtly bow.

"He didn't alarm me," replied May, testily; "he only alarmed my dogs.
Why, dear me! how very odd!"

Miss Everard, looking full at the young man, had started back with this
exclamation, and stared broadly. A tall, powerful looking young fellow,
rather dusty and travel-stained, but eminently gentlemanly, with frank,
blue eyes, and profuse fair hair, and a handsome, candid face.

"Yes, Miss May," struck in the lodge-keeper, "it is odd! I see it, too!
He looks enough like Sir Noel, dead and gone, to be his own son!"

"I beg your pardon," said May, becoming conscious of her wide stare,
"but is your name Legard; and are you a friend of Sir Rupert Thetford?"

"Yes, to both questions," with a smile that May liked. "You see the
resemblance too, then. Sir Rupert used to speak of it. Is he at home?"

"Not just now; but he will be very soon, and I know will be glad to see
Mr. Legard. You had better come and wait."

"And Hector," said Mr. Legard. "I think I had better leave him behind,
as I see him eyeing your guard of honor with anything but a friendly
eye. I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Everard? Oh!"
laughing frankly at her surprised face, "Sir Rupert showed me a
photograph of yours as a child. I have a good memory for faces, and knew
you at once."

Miss Everard and Mr. Legard fell easily into conversation at once, as if
they had been old friends. Lady Thetford's ward was one of those people
who form their likes and dislikes at first sight; and Mr. Legard's face
would have been a pretty sure letter of recommendation to him the wide
world over. May liked his looks; and then he was Sir Rupert's friend,
and she was never particular about social forms and customs; and so they
dawdled about the grounds, and through the leafy arcades, in the genial
morning sunshine, talking about Sir Rupert and Rome, and art and
artists, and the thousand and one things that turn up in conversation;
and the moments slipped by, half hour followed half hour, until May
jerked out her watch at last in a sudden fit of recollection, and found,
to her consternation, it was past two.

"What will mamma say!" cried the young lady, aghast. "And Rupert; I dare
say he's home to luncheon before this. Let us go back to the house, Mr.
Legard. I had no idea it was half so late."

Mr. Legard laughed frankly.

"The honesty of that speech is the highest flattery my conversational
powers ever received