her, "but just hold on a bit longer and we'll be there. We're e'n a'most
in sight o' the place now. Kin o' yourn and expecting ye, I s'pose?"

"It is the home of my daughter--my only child," she returned, bridling,
"and it will be strange indeed if she is not glad to see the mother whom
she has not seen for years."

"Surely, ma'am; and yonder's the house. We'll be there in five
minutes--more or less."

His passenger looked eagerly in the direction indicated.

"A large house, isn't it?" she queried. "One can't see much out of this
little pane of glass and through the rain and mist."

"It's a fine place, ma'am, and a good, big house," he returned. "I
wouldn't mind ownin' such a place myself. It's grand in the summer time,
and not so bad to look at even now through all this storm o' mist, hail,
and rain."

"Yes; I dare say," she said, shivering; "and if it was little better
than a hovel I'd be glad to reach it and get out of this chilling wind.
It penetrates to one's very bones."

She drew her cloak closer about her as she spoke, and as the hack turned
in at the avenue gates took up her satchel and umbrella in evident haste
to alight.

In the home-like parlour of the mansion they were approaching sat a
lovely-looking lady of mature years, a little group of children gathered