"So am I—devoutly thankful," said Anstice with warmth.
"I don't think I could thrive amongst numbers, and yet Mrs. Dermot told me that it is desolation when she is not in a crowd. What a comfort we are not all made alike!"
Life slipped back again to its normal routine.
Then one evening after dinner Anstice said to her husband:
"Do you know some Miss Maybricks by name?"
He smiled.
"Of course I know them both. As young girls they were great favourites, handsome and go-ahead. They were my seniors as far as age goes, and when I was in my teens, I used to adore the younger—Carrie."
"Mr. Bolland has been talking about them. He wants me to go and see one of them. How can I do it? She has not called upon me."
"She doubtless does not know of your existence. Harscale Hall is in the wilds, right amongst the Fells, about twelve miles from us. Why does he want you to know her?"
"He was telling me such a sad story about them. The younger had the property left her by her father's will. She was his favourite, and the elder was furious that she should be turned out of her home, and be treated so by her father. She set up house for herself about five miles away, five miles nearer us she is, for she is in Mr. Bolland's parish."