It was a lady who spoke, in clear, brisk tones; she was not very young, and wore a severely plain dress: a round felt hat like a man's, with two or three crow's feathers stuck in carelessly at the side, a thick pair of leather gauntlets, and carried a walking stick in her hand.
I was answering in the affirmative, when suddenly down came her hand on my shoulder.
'Are you Hilda Thorn?'
'Yes,' I said, quietly meeting a searching look from two keen dark eyes under very thick eyebrows.
'And you are indeed, I hear, a veritable thorn in the side of my poor sister. I am glad to have met you. Now take me to her.'
Her quick, imperative tones awed me. I had heard Nelly talk about an aunt of theirs, a Miss Rayner, who was a strong-minded and peculiar woman, and I rightly conjectured that this must be she.
We found Mrs. Forsyth in her own sitting-room, busy with accounts, and I fancied she did not look well pleased at the advent of the visitor.
'Well, Helen,' she said, rising from her seat, 'you are home again, then. I thought you were still in America. This is quite a surprise.'
'I don't take long over business, and I am not one to let the grass grow under my feet. I have been making acquaintance with this young person. Why, Maria, she is a mere baby!'
I beat a retreat hastily, and finding Nelly practising a song in the drawing-room, told her of the arrival.