d the Reedcroft--where her young ladyship bid stop the
carriage...." She paused to let the old lady think. Perhaps she was
going too fast.

But no--it was not that at all. Old Maisie was quite clear about the
incident, and its whereabouts. "Oh yes!" said she. "I knew it was
Strides Cottage, because I had the name from my little Davy, for the
envelopes of his letters. And I knew Farmer Jones, because of his Bull.
It was only a bit of fatigue, with the long ride." Then as the bald
disclaimer of any need for solicitude seemed a chill return for Pomona's
cordiality, old Maisie hastened to add a corollary:--"I did not find the
time to thank your mother as I would have liked to do; but I get old and
slow, and the coachman was a bit quick of his whip. I should be sorry
for you to think me ungrateful, or your good mother."

It was as well that she added this, for there was a shade of wavering in
Ruth Thrale's heart as to whether the interview was welcome. A trace of
that jealousy about Dave just hung in Maisie's manner. And she rather
stood committed, by not having accepted the mutton-broth. That corollary
may have been Heaven-sent, to keep the mother and daughter in touch, in
the dark--just for a chance of light!

And yet it only just served its turn. For the daughter's half-hesitating
reply:--"But I thought I would look in," if expanded to
explanation-point, would have been worded:--"I came to show good-will,
more than from any grounded misgivings about your health, ma'am; and
now, having shown it, it is time to go." And she might have departed,
easily.

But Fate also showed good-will, and would not permit it. Old Mrs.
Picture became suddenly alive to the presence of a well-wisher, and to
her own reluctance to drive her away. "Oh, but you need not go yet,"
said she. "Or perhaps they want you?"

Oh dear no!--nobody wanted _her_. Her friend she came with, her Cousin
Keziah, was talking to Mrs. Masham. The pleasant presence would remain,
its owner said, and take a seat near the fire. The old lady was glad,
for she had had but little talk with anyone that day. Her morning
interview with Gwen had been a short one, for that young lady was
longing to get away for a second visit to her lover.

Old Maisie, to encourage possible diffidence to believe that a quiet
chat would really be welcome to her, made reference to the
disappointment such a short allowance of her young ladyship had been,
and resuming her high-backed chair, put