"

"She's been here, inspecting the garage?" I asked, glancing at my watch.
It was not yet eight o'clock. The banter died out of me; clearly it had
been my duty to be on hand to pilot her over the estate, or at least to
receive her at the garage. "Just what was the lady's frame of mind--as
to things generally. Peeved, was she, over the row last night?"

"Oh, no, sorr; quite cheerful an' friendly. She's ordered a big car from
New York and told me it would be coming up to-day and to make a place
for it."

Here was news indeed, destroying all my hopes that she meditated only a
brief sojourn. The purchase of a machine meant definitely that she would
remain for some time, perhaps for the winter. I poured a second cup of
coffee, swallowed it, grabbed my hat and stick, and asked enlightment as
to the course taken by Mrs. Bashford when she left the garage.

"She took the lower road, sorr, toward the Sound and stepped off quite
brisk-like."

It was the serenest of September mornings, and I hurried away, thinking
the cloudless blue arch, the twinkling sea, and the crisp air might
serve to soften my aunt's displeasure at her hostile reception. From the
conservatories I caught a glimpse of a woman on the beach--a slender,
agile woman throwing a ball for the amusement of a fox-terrier. She
threw the ball with a boy's free swing, occasionally varying a hot one
down the shore with a toss high in air which she caught up herself
before the terrier could reach it. The two were having no end of a good
time. She laughed joyfully when the ball fell into her hands and the
terrier barked his discomfiture and eagerness for a chance to redeem
himself.

Antoine's equivocal statement as to Mrs. Bashford's age was ridiculous.
Instead of the middle-aged woman whom I was prepared to meet, here was
beyond question a vigorous, healthy being whose every movement spoke for
youth and the joy of life. It might, after all, be the maid of whom
Antoine had spoken; I advanced slowly, anxious not to break in upon her
romp with the terrier--they made a charming picture--and trying to
formulate an introduction. I reached a low stone wall that separated the
lawn from the beach just as she effected a running pick-up of the ball.
She turned swiftly and flung it straight at my head. Involuntarily I
put up my hand and caught it just as she saw me and cried out--a cry of
warning and contrition. I tossed the ball to the dog.

"What must you think of me!" she ex