The door was opened with some energy, and a woman’s head appeared—­a head with brown hair.

“Grant!”

“Jean!  What is the matter?  What brings you here at such a time?  My poor child.”

She laughed.  “There is nothing the matter, you big baby.  Only I heard something I thought you would care to know, and which I thought you should know at once, so I came to tell you.”

“Yes, tell me.”

“It was this way, you see.”  All this impetuously.  “I was at Mrs. Carlson’s party, and among the guests were Mr. Gordon and Mr. Mason, with their wives.  I didn’t listen intentionally, of course, but Mr. Mason and Mr. Gordon came close to where I was sitting and I heard your name mentioned, and I suppose that made my hearing suddenly acute, and I heard in two sentences enough to know that those two gentlemen are working together against you in something political.  So, sir, knowing your foolish interest in such things, and actuated by my foolish interest in you, I told aunt I’d like to go home early, and a cab was called and I was put into it, and I told the driver to come here, and—­you know the rest, you staring personage.”

Women can read men’s faces, and Jean Cornish must have been repaid for what she had done by the mere look of the man before her.  He said nothing for a moment, and then uttered only these words softly: 

“My little rhinoceros-bird.”

“Will you kindly explain the meaning of that extraordinary phrase?”

He did not answer just then, but got into the cab with her and directed the driver to her home.

She had removed her wraps in the drawing-room when she turned to him and demanded further information as to the term applied to her.  He made comment on some people’s general ignorance of natural history, took a big arm-chair, placed the young lady in a low seat close beside him, and, assuming a ponderous, pedagogical air, began: 

“The rhinoceros, my child, as you may possibly be aware, is a huge beast of uncouth appearance, with a horn on its nose, and inhabiting the wild regions of certain wild countries, notably Africa.  It is a dangerous animal, and has enemies galore and friends but few.  The hunter counts it a noble prize, and steals upon it in its fastnesses, and even a rhinoceros may not withstand the explosive bullet of modern science.  Somewhat sluggish and dull, at times, is the rhinoceros, and it is in his careless, listless moods that he is liable to fall a victim.  Well for him is it on such occasions that he has a friend, a guardian, a tiny lover.  Well for him that the rhinoceros-bird exists!  The rhinoceros-bird is a little thing which never deserts the mighty beast.  It perches upon his head or back, and flutters about him, and makes of him its world.  To the rhinoceros-bird the rhinoceros is all there is of earth.  And well is the brute repaid for liking the bird about him.  Though the monster may have stupid periods, the bird has none, and, hovering about bushes, fluttering over openings, ever alert, watchful and solicitous, naught may escape its eye, and, danger once discovered, swift is the warning to the slumbering giant, and then woe to the intruder on his domain!  And such, dear pupil, is the rhinoceros-bird.  And you are my rhinoceros-bird.”