the days when she had served at the ribbon counter in a
department store, she had not found life as agreeable as she had
found it since the hours which were not spent at her own private
sewing machine were given to hearty domestic duties providing
cleanliness, savoury meals, and comfort for Jem.

She was so busy this particular afternoon that it was inevitable
that she should forget all else but the work which kept her on
her knees scrubbing floors or on a chair polishing windows, and
afterwards hanging before them bits of clean, spotted muslin.

She was doing this last when her attention being attracted by
wheels in the street stopping before the door, she looked out to
see a carriage door open and a young woman, dressed in exceptionally
deep mourning garb, step onto the pavement, cross it, and ascend the
front steps.

"Who's she?" Jane exclaimed disturbedly. "Does she think the
house is to let because it's shut?" A ring at the front door bell
called her down from her chair. Among the duties of a caretaker
is naturally included that of answering the questions of
visitors. She turned down her sleeves, put on a fresh apron, and
ran up-stairs to the entrance hall.

When she opened the door, the tall, young woman in black stepped
inside as if there were no reason for her remaining even for a
moment on the threshold.

"I am Mrs. Haldon," she said. "I suppose you are the caretaker?"