Elizabeth appeared, which seemed to surprise him.

“Is Miss Leaf at home?”

“No, Sir.”

“Is she well?  Are all the family well?” and he stepped right into the passage, with the freedom of a familiar foot.

("I should ha’ slammed the door in his face,” was Elizabeth’s comment afterward; “only, you see, Miss Hilary, he looked a real gentleman.”)

The stranger and she mutually examined one another.

“I think I have heard of you,” said he, smiling.  “You are Miss Leaf’s servant—­Elizabeth Hand.”

“Yes, Sir,” still grimly, and with a determined grasp of the door handle.

“If your mistresses are likely to be home soon, will you allow me to wait for them?  I am an old friend of theirs.  My name is Lyon.”

Now Elizabeth was far too much one of the family not to have heard of such a person.  And his knowing her was a tolerable proof of his identity; besides, unconsciously, the girl was influenced by that look and mien of true gentlemanhood, as courteous to the poor maid-of-all-work as he would have been to any duchess born; and by that bright, sudden smile, which came like sunshine over his face, and like sunshine warmed and opened the heart of every one that met it.

It opened that of Elizabeth.  She relaxed her Cerberus keeping of the door, and even went so far as to inform him that Miss Leaf and Miss Selina were out to tea, but Miss Hilary and Mr. Ascott would be at home shortly.  He was welcome to wait in the parlor if he liked.

Afterward, seized with mingled curiosity and misgiving, she made various errands to go in and look at him; but she had not courage to address him, and he never spoke to her.  He sat by the window, gazing out into the gloaming.  Except just turning his head at her entrance; she did not think he had once stirred the whole time.

Elizabeth went back to her kitchen, and stood listening for her young mistress’s familiar knock.  Mr. Lyon seemed to have listened too, for before she could reach it the door was already opened.

There was a warm greeting—­to her great relief:  for she knew she had broken the domestic laws in admitting a stranger unawares—­and then Elizabeth heard them all three go into the parlor, where they remained talking, without ringing for either tea or candles, a full quarter of an hour.

Miss Hilary at last came out, but much to Elizabeth’s surprise, went straight up into her bedroom without entering the kitchen at all.

It was some minutes more before she descended; and then, after giving her orders for tea, and seeing that all was arranged with special neatness, she stood absently by the kitchen fire.  Elizabeth noticed how wonderfully bright her eyes were, and what a soft, happy smile she had.  She noticed it, because she had never seen Miss Hilary look exactly like that before; and she never did again.

“Don’t you be troubling yourself with waiting about here,” she said; and her mistress seemed to start at being spoken to.  “I’ll get the tea all right, Miss Hilary.  Please go back into the parlor.”