"I beg your pardon—" Ned was saying aloud, while such thoughts flashed through his mind. "I fancied you might be Miss Magda Royston."
"Oh, no, I'm only her sister. I'm Merryl," came in frank reply. "Do you want to see Magda?"
"She and I are old friends. I am afraid I have taken rather a liberty in coming this way; but it all looked so familiar that I—well, I came. You don't know me, of course. You must have been one of the little ones in those days. I am Ned Fairfax."
Merryl's hand came out cordially.
"But of course I remember. I'm only two years younger than Magda—though we did seem so far apart then. Of course I remember. You were always so good to us little ones. Will you come indoors, and shall I call her? She has gone to the other end of the kitchen garden."
"Then perhaps I might find her there. I should like to discover if she will recognise me—unannounced."
"If you like—please do. But I am sure mother will wish to see you too."
"Hadn't I better choose a more orthodox hour for calling? One afternoon, perhaps. I've come to the Vicarage for ten days."
"Yes, we heard you were coming; and Magda was so pleased."
"Then she has not quite forgotten me. And this of course is little Frip!" Ned's hand grasped Francie's pleasantly. Children always took to him, and Frip proved no exception.