Peter was up and dressed when Miss Felicia arrived, despite the early hour.

Indeed that gay cavalier was the first to help the dear lady off with her travelling cloak and bonnet, Mrs.McGuffey folding her veil, smoothing out her gloves and laying them all upon the bed in the adjoining room--the one she kept in prime order for Miss Grayson's use.
The old fellow was facing the coffee-urn when he told her Jack's story and what he himself had said in reply, and how fine the boy was in his beliefs, and how well-nigh impossible it was for him to help him, considering his environment.
The dear lady had listened with her eyes fixed on Peter.

It was but another of his benevolent finds; it had been the son of an old music teacher the winter before, and a boy struggling through college last spring;--always somebody who wanted to get ahead in one direction or another, no matter how impracticable his ambitions might be.

This young man, however, seemed different; certain remarks had a true ring.
Perhaps, after all, her foolish old brother--foolish when his heart misled him--might have found somebody at last who would pay for the time he spent upon him.

The name, too, had a familiar sound.