“I mean,” explained Ted, buttering a hot roll with hurried fingers, “he’ll work his way up.  He won’t be promoted until he earns it; he doesn’t want to be.”

Richard smiled.  The boy’s ideals had evidently been given a start by some person or persons of high moral character.  He was considering the subject in some further detail with the lad when the dining-room door suddenly opened and the owner of the black-lashed blue eyes, which in a way matched Ted’s, came most unexpectedly in upon them.  She was in street dress of dark blue, and her eyes looked out at them from under the wide gray brim of a sombrero-shaped hat with a long quill in it, the whole effect of which was to give her the breezy look of having literally blown in on the November wind which was shaking the trees outside.  Her cheeks had been stung into a brilliant rose colour.  Two books were tucked under her arm.

“Why, Rob!” cried her younger brother.  “What luck!  What brought you home?”

Rising from his chair Richard observed that Ted had risen also, and he now heard Ted’s voice presenting him to his sister with the ease of the well-bred youngster.

From this moment Richard owed the boy a debt of gratitude.  He had been waiting impatiently for a fortnight for this presentation and had begun to think it would never come.

Roberta Gray came forward to give the guest her hand with a ready courtesy which Richard met with the explanation of his presence.

“I was asked to keep your brother company in the absence of the family.  I can’t help being glad that you didn’t come in time to forestall me.”

“I’m sure Ted’s hospitality might have covered us both,” she said, pulling off her gloves.  He recognized the voice.  At close range it was even more delightful than he had remembered.

“I doubt it, since he tells me that when you’re here he doesn’t mind who else is away.”

“Did you say that, Teddy?” she asked, smiling at the boy.  “Then you’ll surely give me lunch, though it isn’t my day at home.  I’m so hungry, walking in this wind.  But the air is glorious.”

She went away to remove her hat and coat, and came back quickly, her masses of black hair suggesting but not confirming the impression that the wind had lately had its way with them.  Her eyes scanned the table eagerly like those of a hungry boy.

“Some of your scholars sick?” inquired Ted.

“Two—­and one away.  So I’m to have a whole beautiful afternoon, though I may have to see them Wednesday to make up.  I am a teacher in Miss Copeland’s private school,” she explained to Richard as simply as one of the young women he knew would have explained.  “I have singing lessons of Servensky.”