At about this time it chanced that Miss Ludington drove into Brooklyn one
morning to do some shopping. She was standing at a counter in a large
store, examining goods, when she became aware that a lady standing at
another counter was attentively regarding her. The lady in question was
of about her own height and age, her hair being nearly white, like Miss
Ludington's; but it was evident from the hard lines of her face and her
almost shabby dress that life had by no means gone so easily with her as
with the lady she was regarding so curiously.

As Miss Ludington looked up she smiled, and, crossing the store, held out
her hand. "Ida Ludington! don't you know me?" Miss Ludington scanned her
face a moment, and then, clasping her outstretched hand, exclaimed,
delightedly, "Why, Sarah Cobb, where did you come from?" and for the next
quarter of an hour the two ladies, quite oblivious of the clerks who were
waiting on them, and the customers who were jostling them, stood absorbed
in the most animated conversation. They had been school-girls together in
Hilton forty-five years before, and, not having met since Miss
Ludington's removal from the village, had naturally a great deal to say.

"It is thirty years since I have seen any one from Hilton," said Miss
Ludington at last, "and I'm not going to let you escape me. You must come
out with me to my house and stay overnight, and we will talk old times
over. I would not have missed you for anything."

Sarah Cobb, who had said that her name was now Mrs. Slater, and that she
lived in New York, having removed there from Hilton only a few years
previous, seemed nothing loth to accept her friend's invitation, and it
was arranged that Miss Ludington should send her carriage to meet her at