She liked Professor Lancaster.  Having lately had a good deal of Claude Locker, she was prepared to like a quiet and thoroughly self-possessed young man.

Olive was the latest of the little company to appear, and when she came down she caused a genuine, though gentle sensation.  She was most exquisitely dressed, not too much for a luncheon, and not enough for a dinner.  This navy girl had not studied for nothing the art of dressing in different parts of the world.  Her uncle regarded her with open-eyed astonishment.

“Is this my brother’s daughter?” he asked himself.  “The little girl who poured my coffee in the morning and went out to take toll?”

Olive greeted her uncle with absolute propriety, and made the acquaintance of Mr. Lancaster with a formal courtesy to which no objection could be made.  Apparently she forgot the existence of Mr. Locker, and for the greater part of the meal she conversed with Mr. Fox about certain foreign places with which they were both familiar.

The luncheon was not a success; there was a certain stiffness about it which even Mrs. Easterfield could not get rid of; and when the gentlemen went out to smoke on the piazza Olive disappeared, sending a message to Mrs. Easterfield that she had a bad headache and would like to be excused.  Her excuse was a perfectly honest one, for she was apt to have a headache when she was angry; and she was angry now.

The reason for her indignation was the fact that her uncle’s visitor was an extremely presentable young man.  Had it been otherwise, Olive would have given the captain a good scolding, and would then have taken her revenge by making fun of him and his shipmate’s son.  But now she felt insulted that her uncle should conceal from her the fact that he had an entirely proper young gentleman for a visitor.  Could he think she would want to stay at his house to be with that young man?  Was she a girl from whom the existence of such a person was to be kept secret?  She was very angry, indeed, and her headache was genuine.

Captain Asher was also angry.  He had intended to take Olive aside and tell her all about Dick Lancaster, and how he had refrained from saying anything about him until he found out what sort of a young man he was.  If, then, she saw fit to scold him, he was perfectly willing to submit, and to shake hands all around.  But now he would have no chance to speak to her; she had not treated him properly, even if she had a headache.  He admitted to himself that she was young and probably sensitive, but it was also true that he was sensitive, although old.  Therefore, he was angry.

Mrs. Easterfield was disturbed; she saw there was something wrong between Olive and her uncle, and she did not like it.  She had invited Lancaster with an object, and she did not wish that other people’s grievances should interfere with said object.  Olive was grumpy up-stairs and Claude Locker was in the doleful dumps under a tree, and if these two should grump and dump together, it might be very bad; consequently, Mrs. Easterfield was more anxious than ever that there should be at least two young men at Broadstone.