“He’s good-looking enough for a colonel,” thought Dora, and then started back, coloring a little; for Mr. Burroughs, in entering the house, had glanced up, and caught her eye.  The next minute, Kitty darted into the room from her own chamber.

“They’ve come!  Did you see him?  Isn’t he a real beauty?  I do love a tall man!-He’s as tall as Mr. Brown, and his whiskers are ever so much prettier; but, then, Mr. Brown’s a minister.  My!  How nice you look, Dora!  Go right down, and I’ll stay with little Molly.”

Dora glanced involuntarily at the mirror, and caught the reflection of a bright face, surrounded by heavy chestnut curls, and lighted with clear hazel eyes, and flashing teeth, a head of queenly shape and poise, and a firm, graceful figure, well set off by its white dress, black bodice, and scarlet ribbons,—­a charming picture, with the quaintly decorated chamber for background, and the heavy black frame of the old mirror for setting:  and a brighter color washed into the young girl’s cheek as she recognized the fact; but she only said,—­

“Why do you call her Molly, Kitty?”

“Oh! just a fancy name.  We must call her something, and can’t find out her right name.”

“She called it Sunshine,” said Dora, bending to kiss the pale little face upon the pillow as she passed.

“Moonshine, more like,” replied Kitty.  “She didn’t mean it for a name, of course.  You didn’t understand.  But come:  your beau is waiting.”

“Don’t, Kitty, please!”

“I might as well begin.  Every man is a beau that comes near you.  I never saw such luck!”

Dora opened her lips, closed them tightly, and left the room.  The next moment she stood in the low doorway of the parlor, bowing gravely, but not shyly, to the stately gentleman, whose head grazed the great white beam in the ceiling as he came forward to meet her.

“Miss Darling, I presume,” said he.

“Yes, sir; I am Dora Darling:  and you are Mr. Burroughs; are you not?”

“At your service,” said the gentleman, bowing again; and, handing Dora a chair, he took another for himself.

“Won’t you have some water, or a glass of milk, after your drive, Mr. Burroughs?” asked Dora with anxious hospitality; and, as the gentleman confessed to an inclination for some water, she tripped away, and presently returned with a tumbler, which Mr. Burroughs very willingly took from her slender fingers instead of a salver.

“You know I was a vivandiŠre, sir,” said Dora, smiling frankly; “and I always think of people being thirsty and tired when they come in so.”

Mr. Burroughs smiled, too, as he handed back the empty glass.

“I wish we had all turned our army experiences to as good account,” said he.

“Were you in the army?” asked Dora with sudden animation.

“Yes:  I was lieutenant in the Massachusetts Sixth, and went through Baltimore with them,” said Burroughs, tightening himself a little as the associations of military drill came back upon him.