but before I get back home," said Godmother, in departing, "ask him in
and be nice to him. He's a lonely body, and he'll probably be tired.
He works very hard."

Mary Alice promised, and went happily to work on the new sleeves which
were to give her arms and shoulders something of an exquisite outline,
in keeping with the fairy way of doing her hair, which Godmother had
taught her to admire in a beautiful marble in the Metropolitan Museum.

About five o'clock, when Godmother's neat little maid had just lighted
the lamps in the pretty drawing-room and replenished the open fire
which was one of the great compensations for the many drawbacks of
living in an old-fashioned house, the gentleman Godmother had expected
called.

Mary Alice went in to see him, and explained who she was. He said he
had heard about her and was glad to make her acquaintance.

He seemed quite tired, and Mary Alice asked him if he had been working
hard that day.

"Yes," he said, "very hard."

"Wouldn't you like a cup of tea?" she asked. And he said he would.

When the tea came, he seemed to enjoy it so much that Mary Alice really
believed he was hungry. Indeed, he admitted that he was. "I haven't
had any luncheon," he said.

Mary Alice's heart was touched; she forgot that the man was strange,