“Our cloths are wet,” said Blue, looking round the ceiling vaguely, as if a dry dish-towel might be lying somewhere on a rafter.

“I declare—­” the mother began, tapping her foot.  But what she was going to declare was never known, for just then a knock at the outer door diverted their attention.

However commonplace may be the moment after a door is opened, the moment before the opening is apt to be full of interest, for one can never know but that some cause of delightful excitement is on the other side.

It was Blue who opened the door.  She did not at first open it very wide, for she had learned by experience how much icy air could rush in, and the other two, watching from behind, saw her answering some salutation with dubious politeness.  Then, after a moment, they saw her open it more widely, and with a shy but hospitable inclination of the pretty head—­“Will you walk in?” said Blue.

The young man who immediately entered had a very smart appearance to eyes which had grown accustomed to the working garb of father and brother.  He was, moreover, handsome to a degree that is not ordinary.  The curly hair from which he had lifted his fur cap was black and glossy as a blackbird’s plumage, and the moustache, which did not cover the full red lips, matched the hair, save that it seemed of finer and softer material.  His brown eyes had the glow of health and good spirits in them.

“Dear me!” Mrs. Rexford gave this involuntary exclamation of surprise; then she turned inquiringly to the visitor.  It was not in her nature to regard him with an unfriendly eye; and as for Blue and Red, a spot of warm colour had come into each of their sorrowful cheeks.  They were too well bred to look at each other or stare at the stranger, but there was a flutter of pleased interest about the muscles of their rosy lips that needed no expressive glances to interpret it.

To be sure, the next few minutes’ talk rather rubbed the bloom off their pleasure, as one rubs beauty off a plum by handling; but the plum is still sweet; and the pleasure was still there, being composed purely of the excitement of meeting a young human creature apparently so akin to themselves, but different with that mysterious difference which nature sets between masculine and feminine attributes of mind and heart.

The young man was an American.  Any one experienced in American life would have observed that the youth was a wanderer, his tricks of speech and behaviour savouring, not of one locality, but of many.  His accent and manner showed it.  He was very mannerly.  He stated, without loss of time, that, hearing that they had lately come to the country and had some rooms in their house which they did not use, he had taken the liberty of calling to see if they could let him a couple of rooms.  He was anxious, he said, to set up as a dentist, and had failed, so far, to find a suitable place.