She had abstained from meeting them at the station, having respect to
the capacities of the horse, even upon his native hills, and she had
hired a farmer's cart to meet them and bring their luggage. Already
she had a glimpse of the carriage, toiling up one hill, then
disappearing between the hedges, and it was long before her gate,
already open, was reached, and at her own OWN door, she received her
little sister, followed by the others. And the first word she heard
even before she had time to pay the driver was, "My dear Magdalen,
what a road!"

Poor Mrs. Best! as the payment was put into the man's hand, Magdalen
looked round and saw she looked quite worn out.

"Yes," said Paulina, "bumped to pieces and tired to death."

"I was afraid they had been mending the roads," said Magdalen.

"Mending! Strewing them with rocks, if you please," said Agatha.

"And such a distance!" added Paulina.

"Not quite three miles," replied Magdalen. "Here is some tea to
repair you."

"My dear Magdalen"--in a chorus--"that really is quite impossible.
It must be five, at least."

"Your nearest town ten miles off!" sighed Vera.

"Your nearest church," cried Paulina.