ed. The
shopwoman in B---- from whom Miss Cookson derived her information about
the Farrells, had described Sir William as 'queer'--said everybody knew
he was 'queer.' Nobody could get him to do any county work. He hated
Committees, and never went near them. It was said he had been in love
and the lady had died. 'But if we all turned lazy for that kind of
thing!'--said the little shopwoman, shrugging her shoulders. Still the
Farrells were not unpopular. Sir William had a pleasant slow way of
talking, especially to the small folk; and he had just done something
very generous in giving up his house--the whole of his house--somewhere
Cockermouth way, to the War Office, as a hospital. As for his sister,
she seemed to like driving convalescent officers about, and throwing
away money on her clothes. There was no sign of 'war economy' about Miss
Farrell.

Here, however, the shopwoman's stream of gossip was arrested by the
arrival of a new customer. Bridget was not sorry. She had not been at
all interested in the Farrells' idiosyncrasies; and she only watched
their preparations for departure now, for lack of something to do. The
chauffeur was waiting beside the car, and Miss Farrell got in first,
taking the front seat. Then Sir William, who had been loitering on the
hill, hurried down to give a helping hand to the young officer, who was
evidently only in the early stages of convalescence. After settling his
guest comfortably, he turned to speak to his chauffeur, apparently about
their road home, as he took a map out of his pocket.

At this moment, a clatter of horses' hoofs and the rattle of a coach
were heard. Round the corner, swung the Windermere evening coach in fine
style, and drew up at the door of Mrs. Weston's lodgings, a little ahead
of the car.

'There they are!' said Miss Cookson, excited in spite of herself. 'Well,
I needn't go down. George will bring in the luggage.'

A young man and a young lady got up from their seats. A ladder was
brought for the lady to descend. But just as she was about to step on
it, a fidgeting horse in front made a movement, the ladder slipped, and
the lady was only just in time to withdraw her foot and save herself.

Sir William Farrell, who had seen the little incident, ran forward,
while the man who had been placing the ladder went to the horse, which
was capering and trying to rear in his eagerness to be off.

Sir William raised the ladder, and set it firmly against the coach.