as Farm driving Anna Forrest from the station. Of
course, we didn't know her then. But Julia felt sure it was Anna, and
it turned out she was right. Curiously enough, we met Mrs Forrest and
the child in Appleby's shortly after, and Mrs Forrest said how unlucky
it had been that there was a confusion about the day of her niece's
arrival, and no one to meet her at the station; but, fortunately, she
said, Anna was sensible enough to take a fly, so that was all right.
Now, you see, my dear Delia, she _didn't_ take a fly," added Mrs Winn,
solemnly, "so she must have deceived her aunt."

Mrs Winn's most important stories had so often turned out to be founded
on mistakes, that Delia was not much impressed by this one, nor disposed
to think worse of Anna because of it.

"Oh, I daresay there's a mistake somewhere," she said, lightly, rising
and picking up her flowers and her violin-case. "I must go now, Mrs
Winn; the Professor will be back by the time I get there--good-bye."

She hurried out of the room before Mrs Winn could begin another
sentence; for long experience had taught her that the subject would not
be exhausted for a long while, and that a sudden departure was the only
way of escape.

A quarter of an hour's quick walk brought her to Number 4 Back Row, and
looking in at the sitting-room window, as her custom was, she saw that
the Professor had indeed arrived before her.

His dwelling was a contrast in every way to that of Mrs Winn. For one
thing, instead of standing boldly out before the world of Dornton High
Street, it was smuggled away, with a row of little houses like itself,
in a narrow sort of passage, enclosed between two wide streets. This
passage ended in a blank wall, and was, besides, too narrow for any but
foot-passengers to pass up it, so that it would have been hard to find a
quieter or more retired spot. The little, old houses in it were only
one storey high, and very solidly built, with thick walls, and the
windows in deep recesses; before each a strip of garden, and a gravel
walk stretched down to a small gate. Back Row was the very oldest part
of Dornton, and though the houses were small, they had always been lived
in by respectable people, and preserved a certain air of gentility.

Without waiting to knock, Delia hurried in at the door of Number 4,
which led straight into the sitting-room. The Professor was leaning
back in his easy-chair, his boots white with dust, and an expression of
f