things. "Here, come and take off your wet things, my dear, and
Bellairs shall bring you some tea."

"I'm dry. I'm warm," said Meta, tossing off her plumy hat, as she
established herself, with her feet on the fender. "But where do you
think I have been? You have so much to hear. But first--three
guesses where we were in the rain!"

"In the Stoneborough Cloisters, that you wanted to see? My dear, you
did not keep your papa in the cold there?"

"No, no; we never got there at all; guess again."

"At Mr. Edward Wilmot's?"

"No!"

"Could it have been at Dr. May's? Really, then, you must tell me."

"There! you deserve a good long story; beginning at the beginning,"
said Meta, clapping her hands, "wasn't it curious? as we were coming
up the last hill, we met some girls in deep mourning, with a lady who
looked like their governess. I wondered whether they could be Dr.
May's daughters, and so it turned out they were.

"Presently there began to fall little square lumps, neither hail, nor
snow, nor rain; it grew very cold, and rain came on. It would have
been great fun, if I had not been afraid papa would catch cold, and
he said we would canter on to the inn. But, luckily, there was Dr.
May walking up the street, and he begged us to come into his house.