which she called her garden. She was a woman very pleasant to look
at, tall and straight, with a strong ruddy face--and blue eyes, a
little dim with weeping. Her cotton dress of indigo blue, covered with
golden-colored moons, was pinned well up at the back, displaying her
home-knit stockings and low shoes fastened with brass latchets. She
had on her head a cap of white linen, stiffly starched, and a checkered
kerchief was pinned over her ample bosom.

Even in her deep sorrow and anxiety her broad sweet mouth could not
forget its trick of smiling. "Come this ways in, Joy," she said to
Elizabeth, at the same moment dropping a courtesy to Phyllis, an
old-fashioned token of respect, which had no particle of servility
in it.

"This is my cousin, Miss Fontaine, from America, Martha."

"Well, I'm sure I'm right suited at meeting her. Mother used to talk
above a bit about Sibbald Hallam as crossed t' seas. She looked for
him to come back again. But he nivver came."

"I am his granddaughter. I am very sorry, Sister Martha, to hear of
your trouble."

"Why-a! Is ta a Methodist, dearie?"

Phyllis nodded brightly and took her hand.

"Well I nivver! But I'm fain and glad! And as for trouble, I'll not
fear it. Why should I, wi' t' love o' God and t' love o' man to help
me?"