"Well, I don't know," returned Orlean hesitatingly. "He seemed to be a great talker, was very commonplace, dressed nicely but not showily. He knew quite a few people in Chicago that we know, and was born near the town in which I met him. He was just returning from New York, and—well, I rather admired him. He is far above the average colored man, I can say."

"M-m," her mother mused thoughtfully, and with an air of satisfaction. She couldn't think of anything more to say just then, and upon looking at the clock which showed ten minutes of two, she said: "Well, you had better go in the parlor, and after he has called, when convenient, call me and permit me to meet him. You will be careful, my dear, and understand that we have raised you to be a lady, and exercise your usual dignity."

"Yes, mama."

On the hour the street door bell was pulled with a jerk, and arising, Orlean went toward the door expectantly.

"Oh, how do you do," she cried, a moment later, her face lighted with a radiant smile as she extended her hand and allowed it to rest in that of Jean Baptiste's.

"Miss McCarthy," he cried, with her hand in one of his, and his hat in the other, he entered the door.

"May I take your hat?" asked Orlean, and taking it, placed it on the hall tree. In the meantime, his habitually observing eyes were upon her, and when she turned she found him regarding her closely.

"Come right into the parlor, please, Mr. Baptiste, and be seated." She hesitated between the davenport and the chairs; while he, without ado, chose the davenport and became seated, and the look he turned upon her commanded more than words that she, too, be seated. With a little hesitation, she finally sank on the davenport at a conventional distance, beside him.

"I was not certain, judging by your last letter, just when you would get here," she began timidly. He regarded her out of his searching eyes attentively. He was weighing her in the balance. He saw in those close glances what kind of a girl she was, apparently, for, after a respite, he relaxed audibly, but kept his eyes on her nevertheless.

"I was not certain myself," he said. "I am so rushed these days that I do not know always just what comes next. But I am glad that I am here at last—and to see you looking so well."

They exchanged the usual words about the weather, and other conventional notes, and then she called her mother.

"Mama, I wish you to meet Mr. Baptiste. Mr. Baptiste, this is my mother."

"Mr. Baptiste," said her mother, giving him her hand, "I am glad to know you."

"The same here, madam," he returned cheerfully. "Guess your health is good!"

"Very good, I'm glad to say."

They talked for a time, and all were cheered to find themselves so agreeable.