Daffodil took it and read, "Archibald Langdale, M.D."
"Oh," in a glad, girlish tone, "it's my old friend, Archie, that I haven't seen in ever so long. Dr. Langdale;" with a pretty assumption of dignity.
"Yes."
"And, uncle, you must see him. Not that I want you to accept him for a family physician, for really I don't know what he is like. He may be the veriest prig;" and she gave a dainty half laugh. "If he is spoiled it will be the fault of your city, he was very nice at Pittsburg. And you, too, Mr. Bartram."
"I have met the young man. I didn't see that he was much puffed up with his honors."
"Thank you." She made a fascinating courtesy. How pleased she was, he could see that.
"We will soon be through with the game. Yes, I'll come," said M. de Ronville.
She would hardly have known Archie. He stood up straight and he was quite as tall as Ned. He had filled out somewhat, though he was still rather thin, but his face had lost that deprecating expression, and had a clear notion not only of truth and honor, but of his own power as well. It was a tender face also, with the light in it that draws one unconsciously. The eyes seemed to have grown darker, but the hair was light as in boyhood.
"I am so glad to see you again;" and he took both hands in a warm clasp. "I couldn't wait until some accidental meeting, where you might kindly invite me for old friendship's sake."
"That would not have been worth while. I have heard about you, and I wondered if you had outgrown childish remembrances."