It was a grey stone building with slated roof, and a deep square porch before the door.
A woman stood just outside the porch, shading her eyes with her hand, but watching Anstice approach with some interest.
"I am Mrs. Holme," said Anstice pleasantly. "I have only just come here to live, but Brenda has sent me up here to speak to her aunt, Mrs. Parkin. Is she at home?"
"I am herself," said the woman. "Come ye in an' I'll fetch my sister who's the rightfu' mistress of this house."
She led her into a most delightful kitchen, with a blazing fire. Shining copper and brass pans stood on shelves on either side of the wide hearth. Hams were suspended from the beams across the ceiling. Hot bread was just coming out of the oven, and Mrs. James, the farmer's wife, very deliberately set her loaves out on the old oak dresser, before she turned to speak to Anstice.
"Please take a seat, ma'am. 'Tis a pleasure to make acquaintance with you so soon. The Squire were up here yesterday, and did tell us the news. It be a gran' thing for those poor little lasses of his."
Anstice sat down on a cushioned seat near a window, where musks and early geraniums stood on its wide sill. She smiled.
"I have come to ask Mrs. Parkin whether she will come and help me to make a comfortable home at the Manor."
Then she unfolded her errand. Mrs. Parkin, a stout, pleasant-faced woman, listened to her in silence and appeared to be pondering over the matter. Then after a long pause she said:
"I'll come to you and give it a trial, ma'am. Brenda has been at me times without number, but I'm a lover of order and method, and could not face the loneliness and shiftless muddle there."