tendance on ladies, to this sort of thing; but they said they would show him whether they could or not, and one of the young fellows said he flattered himself they were showing him; but Unc. was plainly not for dealing, and said it was too early to settle the question yet. I suppose they must be rich fellows, for I never saw such a camping paraphernalia in my life. When I went into what they call the toilet tent, their dressing-eases and appliances were perfectly bewildering. Unc. explained to me that none of these luxuries belonged to him: they were the property of the youngsters, he said; he hadn't anything of the sort. 'That's because nature made us with imperfections which require palliatives,' the oldest of the three others said, and then he added that Unc. supposed that he was giving him a wholesome lesson in humility whenever he included him in the term youngsters, not realizing that he had reached an age when youth was no longer an opprobrious term, but rather the contrary; though he can't be over thirty-five or-six," the doctor added, "and he's by all odds the best-looking of the lot."
"What was his name, papa?" said Stella. "You haven't mentioned it."
"Let me see," said Dr. Gray: "the one they call Unc. is named Bell, and the two that were here are Bertrand and Estcott. I do believe I've forgotten the other fellow's name; but I have his card somewhere. I'll get it for you while you fill my cup."
Stella poured the coffee and handed it to him, and as she did so he put into her hand a small visiting-card on which was engraved,—
"Mr. Charles E. Hobart."
When Dr. Gray looked up, after his first draught from the fresh cup of coffee, he found, to his amazement, that Stella had vanished. Had some one called her suddenly away, without his hearing it? He certainly growing a little deaf. Beyond this, he thought no further of the matter.
Stella, meantime, had Blown swiftly up the long old staircase and shut herself in her own room. She held the little card in her hand, and read the name over and over again. What a strange, strange chance it was that had brought Mr. Hobart across her path again! How she hoped she would never see him! If he ever should come to the house she would probably be able to avoid it, and there was no chance of her meeting him elsewhere. She really felt as if she could hardly bear to meet him again. Not that she retained a vestige of that old childish sentimentality about him; but it made her cheeks hot to remember that she had cried at the thought of parting with him, and that he had seen her tears! How foolish, how unmaidenly, he must have thought her! She dared not hope that he had set her conduct
