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asked, her attention having reverted to the terrier again.
    â€˜â€˜My father’s name?’’
    â€˜â€˜Yes,’’ said the young lady, humorously; ‘‘but don’t tell him I asked you.’’
    They had come by this time to where old Mr. Touchett was sitting, and he slowly got up from his chair to introduce himself.
    â€˜â€˜My mother has arrived,’’ said Ralph, ‘‘and this is Miss Archer.’’
    The old man placed his two hands on her shoulders, looked at her a moment with extreme benevolence, and then gallantly kissed her.
    â€˜â€˜It is a great pleasure to me to see you here; but I wish you had given us a chance to receive you.’’
    â€˜â€˜Oh, we were received,’’ said the girl. ‘‘There were about a dozen servants in the hall. And there was an old woman curtsying at the gate.’’
    â€˜â€˜We can do better than that—if we have notice!’’ And the old man stood there, smiling, rubbing his hands, and slowly shaking his head at her. ‘‘But Mrs. Touchett doesn’t like receptions.’’
    â€˜â€˜She went straight to her room.’’
    â€˜â€˜Yes—and locked herself in. She always does that. Well, I suppose I shall see her next week.’’ And Mrs. Touchett’s husband slowly resumed his former posture.
    â€˜â€˜Before that,’’ said Miss Archer. ‘‘She is coming down to dinner—at eight o’clock. Don’t you forget a quarter to seven,’’ she added, turning with a smile to Ralph.
    â€˜â€˜What is to happen at a quarter to seven?’’
    â€˜â€˜I am to see my mother,’’ said Ralph.
    â€˜â€˜Ah, happy boy!’’ the old man murmured. ‘‘You must sit down—you must have some tea,’’ he went on, addressing his wife’s niece.
    â€˜â€˜They gave me some tea in my room the moment I arrived,’’ this young lady answered. ‘‘I am sorry you are out of health,’’ she added, resting her eyes upon her venerable host.
    â€˜â€˜Oh, I’m an old man, my dear; it’s time for me to be old. But I shall be the better for having you here.’’
    She had been looking all round her again—at the lawn, the great trees, the reedy, silvery Thames, the beautiful old house; and while engaged in this survey, she had also narrowly scrutinized her companions; a comprehensiveness of observation easily conceivable on the part of a young woman who was evidently both intelligent and excited. She had seated herself, and had put away the little dog; her white hands, in her lap, were folded upon her black dress; her head was erect, her eye brilliant, her flexible figure turned itself lightly this way and that, in sympathy with the alertness with which she evidently caught impressions. Her impressions were numerous, and they were all reflected in a clear, still smile. ‘‘I have never seen anything so beautiful as this,’’ she declared.
    â€˜â€˜It’s looking very well,’’ said Mr. Touchett. ‘‘I know the way it strikes you. I have been through all that. But you are very beautiful yourself,’’ he added with a politeness by no means crudely jocular, and with the happy consciousness that his advanced age gave him the privilege of saying such things—even to young girls who might possibly take alarm at them.
    What degree of alarm this young girl took need not be exactly measured; she instantly rose, however, with a blush which was not a refutation.
    â€˜â€˜Oh yes, of course, I’m lovely!’’ she exclaimed quickly, with a little laugh. ‘‘How old is your house? Is it Elizabethan?’’
    â€˜â€˜It’s early Tudor,’’ said Ralph Touchett.
    She turned toward him, watching his face a little. ‘‘Early Tudor? How very delightful! And I suppose there