"They've got the wrong house," said Susan. "I don't know any Beamers."
"They asked for Mrs. Ralston."
"Then they're selling something, grape-wine or hand-knit lace, or something. I don't want to see 'em."
"I'll go," said Jane. And went at once. In the pretty, changed sitting-room she found the visitors—Mrs. Beamer tall and of large build, with a handsome motor-costume. Mr. Beamer also large, very wiry, and with rampant gray hair. Mrs. Beamer was Matilda.
But what a changed Matilda! "Well, Jane," coming forward and holding out both hands, "did you and Susan feel it?"
Jane staggered and laid hold of a chair. "Feel—" she stammered—"feel what? Oh, Aunt Matilda!"
"Did you feel the good I've been doing you? How's my sister?"
"She—oh, she's all right."
"Up and dressed?"
"Yes."