At last everything was ready, a bright fire burning in the grate threw its glow through the open door of the adjoining bedroom, and flickered on the prettily-arranged dressing-table.

All looked cosy and home-like, and when everything was completed, Valmai retired to put on a fresh frock of white serge.
"His name is Gwynn," said her uncle at last, while she listened breathlessly to the opening of the front door, and the entrance of the stranger.
"This is Captain Powell's house ?" said a voice which set Valmai's pulses throbbing, and all the blood in her body rushed to her face and head.

For a moment she felt dizzy, and she all but dropped the tray which she was holding for her uncle.
"Don't you be afraid, may dear," said the captain consolingly.
"Captain Owen tells me he's a ra-al gentleman, and they are always easily pleased.

He won't look at you, may dear; but, by Jingo, if he does, Ay'm not ashamed of you.

Now, you go down, and make a nice curtsey, may dear, not like Mrs.Finch makes it, you know, but as, Ay bet, you have larnt it at the dancing school; a scrape behind with one foot, you know, and hold your frock with two hands, and then say, 'My uncle hopes you will make yourself quite at home, sir.'" "Oh, uncle!" said Valmai, in despair, "he's not come out yet from his bedroom.