Mr. Hamilton looked at his watch.  “Yes, we shall have time to make a short call on that sunshiny porch and still get you back in time for Miss Burton.”

Marie was sitting in a steamer chair, well wrapped up, and so absorbed in her work that she saw nothing of her guests until they were almost at her side.  When she looked up a warm color flushed her pale cheeks, and she tried to conceal the sheet of paper on which she had been working.

“This is Mr. Hamilton, Marie, and this is my friend, Marie Borel, Uncle Henry,” said Ruth quickly.  “You two should be very good friends, for Uncle Henry’s just been telling me how fond he is of Switzerland.”

“Ah, do you love my country?” cried Marie, all her embarrassment forgotten.  “It ees so good to hear that; I am sometimes so homeseeck for my mountains.”

“Indeed I do love your mountains and your lakes and the good people who live there,” responded Mr. Hamilton with a warmth that delighted Marie’s homesick heart.

“But I must speak to my aunt,” said Marie struggling to rise from her many wraps.  “You will perhaps come into the house.”  “No, sit still, and I’ll tell Mrs. Perrier we’re here,” urged Ruth.  “We can stay only a few minutes, and we like to sit here in the sunshine.”

She disappeared into the house, and while she was gone Mr. Hamilton set himself to the pleasant task of getting acquainted with the shy girl whose wonderful dark eyes looked so confidingly at him.  It needed only a few sympathetic questions to induce her to tell him of the little town nestled at the foot of the Jura Mountains, of the sparkling lake on which she used to look from her chamber window, and of the Jungfrau, seventy miles away, but seeming so near in clear weather.

“I know just where your old home is, Marie,” he said kindly, when, in her pretty, broken English, she had pictured her birthplace to him.  “I don’t wonder that you are homesick, for even I often long for a sight of those beautiful mountains.”

“It gives me much good to talk of them to some one who knows how beautiful they are,” answered Marie simply.  “But here comes Miss Ruth, and—­”

“Now, Marie, don’t you scold me,” interrupted Ruth gaily.  “I just couldn’t help bringing out your lace pillow and your embroidery for Uncle Henry to see.”

“Oh, a gentleman,” laughed Marie, “a gentleman, he does not care for fine stitches.”

“There, isn’t that beautiful, Uncle Henry?” persisted Ruth.  “And what do you think?  I’ve learned to make a very simple pattern.”

“You don’t say so!” said Uncle Henry, much impressed.  “Couldn’t you—­couldn’t you make me something to wear?”

“What shall it be?” laughed Ruth.  “I’ll tell you.  If you’ll promise to have a black velvet suit and wear it to the office every day, I’ll make you a large lace collar to wear with it.”

“I’ll let you know when I leave the order for the suit.  It will be time enough to begin. on the collar then,” answered Mr. Hamilton, much amused at the idea.  “I’m afraid we must be saying good-bye to Marie now,” he added with a glance at his watch, “or you won’t have any time to rest before starting out again.”