He had known that the girl was unusually lovely, but he was not quite prepared to see such a vision of beauty as now greeted his eyes.

“Jove!  Aunt Marg, isn’t she a stunner?” he cried, under his breath.  “You won’t see one at the ball Monday night that can hold a candle to her!”

Mona had flushed a vivid scarlet when he had so unceremoniously forced his way into the room; but at his bold compliment she turned haughtily away from his gaze with the air of an offended queen.

Her bearing, though full of scorn, was replete with grace and dignity, while the voluminous train of the rich dress made her slender form seem even taller and more regal than it really was.

Mrs. Montague had been no less impressed with the young girl’s beauty, but it would have affected her no more than that of a wax figure would have done had no one else been present to remark it.  Now, however, at Louis’ high praise, a feeling of envy sprang up in her heart, and a frown of annoyance gathered on her brow.

“I wish you would go out, Louis,” she said, sharply.  “It is very rude of you to thus force yourself into my room.”

“Come now, Aunt Marg, that’s a good one, when all my life I have been in the habit of running in and out of your room, to do your bidding like a lackey,” the young man retorted, mockingly.  “But really this is an unexpected treat,” he added, wickedly.  “Miss Richards, in these fine togs, is the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen.  And—­’pon my word, Aunt Marg, I really believe she looks like—­”

“Louis!” came in a sharp, warning cry from Mrs. Montague’s lips, as she wheeled around upon him, her blazing eyes having a dangerous gleam in them.

“Like—­a picture that I have seen somewhere,” he quietly finished, but with a meaning smile and intonation.  “How you do snap a fellow up, Aunt Margie!  Here, give me the money, and I will clear out before another blast!”

Mrs. Montague handed him a roll of bills, telling him in an icy tone to be sure and get back as early as possible on Monday; and then, as he beat a retreat before her offended looks, she sharply shut the door upon him.

“Take off that dress!” she abruptly commanded of Mona.

Deeply wounded by her ungracious tone, as well as indignant at what had just occurred, the fair girl quickly divested herself of the costly apparel, and then, wishing the woman a quiet good-night, withdrew to her own room.

But nothing could make her very unhappy with the glad refrain that was continually ringing in her heart: 

“Ray is coming!  I shall see him!” she kept saying over and over.  All other emotions were swallowed up in the joy of this, and she was soon sleeping the sweet, restful sleep of youth and dreaming of the one she loved.

But Mrs. Montague was terribly excited when she found herself alone.