She was dressed as they had seen her in the village store, and she was chatting, with an appearance of the greatest affability, with Miss Marcia. The two girls stared at her in ill-concealed amazement—so ill-concealed, in fact, that even Miss Marcia noticed it.
“Miss Ramsay and I have been getting acquainted while we waited for you to come back,” she remarked, somewhat bewildered by their speechless consternation. “She says she made your acquaintance at Aunt Sally Blake’s in the village, where she is boarding.”
“Oh—er, yes!” stuttered Phyllis, remembering her manners. “It’s very pleasant to see you here, Miss—Ramsay. I see you are acquainted with Miss Crane. This is Miss Leslie Crane her niece.”
Leslie bowed and murmured something inarticulate, but Miss Ramsay was affable to a degree. “I drove over to your cottage first, Miss Kelvin,” she chatted on, after her introduction, “with some eggs Aunt Sally promised you. She was going to send them by the butcher boy, but he did not stop this morning, so, as I was going out, I offered to take them. But I found no one at your place, so I came on here, introduced myself to Miss Crane, and we’ve been having a nice time together.”
The astonishment of the girls at this amazing change of front in the difficult Miss Ramsay was beyond all expression. Her intonation was slightly English, her manner charming. They had not dreamed that she could be so attractive. And so fresh and pretty was she that she was a real delight to look upon.
“What delightful little cottages these are!” she went on. “They look so attractive from the outside. I’m sure they must be equally so from the inside. We have nothing quite on this style in England, where I came from.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go through ours?” asked Miss Marcia, hospitably. “Leslie, take Miss Ramsay through. Perhaps she will be interested to see the interior.”
“Oh, I’ll be delighted!” exclaimed Miss Ramsay, and rose to accompany Leslie.
It did not take them long to make the round of Rest Haven. Rather to her hostess’s astonishment, the girl seemed more enthusiastic over Leslie’s room than any of the others and lingered there the longest, though it was by no means the most attractive.
“What a wonderful view you have of the sea!” she said. And then she strolled to the other window and looked out, long and curiously. “That’s an interesting little cottage next door,” she remarked presently. “Is it—is it just like this one?”