see him
fumbling with the oars, made her tingle to take them herself; she
could not abide the irritation of a return journey with such a
boatman. This determination was hastened when she saw that instead of
the three-decker steamer of her native land, the ferry at Wittisham
was just like an ordinary row-boat; that one rang a bell hanging from
a picturesque tower; that a nice young man with a sprig of wallflower
in his cap rowed one across, and that each passenger handed out a
penny to him on the farther side.

"How enchantingly quaint!" she cried. "William, you can go home; I
shall return by the public ferry."

William looked surprised but only replied, "Very good, ma'am."

On warm summer afternoons the tiny square of Mrs. Prettyman's garden
made as delightful a place to sit in as one could wish. There was
sunshine on the turf, and a thin shade was cast by the drooping boughs
of the plum tree; just enough to shelter old eyes from the glare. When
she was very tired with doing her work Mrs. Prettyman would totter out
into the garden. She was getting terribly lame now, yet afraid to
acknowledge it, knowing, with the desperate wisdom of poverty, that
once to give in, very often ended in giving up altogether. So her
lameness was 'blamed on the weather,' 'blamed on scrubbing the
floor,' blamed on anything rather than the tragic, incurable fact of
old age. This afternoon her rheumatism had been specially bad: she had
an inclination to cry out when she rose from her chair, and every step
was an effort. Yet the sunshine was tempting; it warmed old and aching
bones through and through as no fire could do; and Mrs. Prettyman
thought she must make the effort to go out.

She had just arrived at this conclusion, when a tap came to the door.

"That you, Mrs. Darke?" she called out in her piping old voice. "Come
in, me dear, I'm that stiff with me rheumatics to-day I can't scarce
rise out of me chair."

"It's not Mrs. Darke," said Robinette, stooping to enter through the
tiny doorway. "It's a stranger, Mrs. Prettyman, come all the way from
America to see you."

"Lor' now, Miss, whoever may you be?" the old woman cried, making as
if she would rise from her chair. But Robinette caught her arm and
made her sit still.

"Don't get up; please sit right there where you are, and I'll take
this chair beside you. Now, Mrs. Prettyman, look at me hard, and tell
me if you know who I am."

The old woman gazed into Robinette's face, and t