It brightened, however, as she opened the door, and advancing threw into her mother's lap a little knot of primroses. She looked prettier than ever, as she stood there with her golden hair tossed by the breeze into a disorder which would have shocked Salome's sense of propriety. The girlish face had lost none of its charm, yet it had taken deeper lines, which told of womanly purpose and strength.
"Are they not sweet?" she said. "I saw them shining on the side of a hedge, and felt constrained to climb a gate to get them for you. So you see I have been despoiling my neighbour, and you are a receiver of stolen flowers."
"I don't think anyone about here would call it stealing to gather a few primroses," said Mrs. Tracy, holding the flowers close to her face that she might enjoy their sweet, earthy scent.
"And how have you fared, dear? Have you the books you wanted?"
"Yes, all of them," said Juliet triumphantly: "'Ethics of the Dust,' 'Kingsley's Life,' and 'Froude's Essays.' Now which will you read first?"
"I can better decide that when I have looked at them a little," said Mrs. Tracy diplomatically. "Do you know I have had a visitor this afternoon?"
"Indeed! What a wonder!" exclaimed Juliet. "Pray, who might the visitor be?"
"Oh, no one extraordinary; only Mrs. Staines."
"Mrs. Staines!" repeated Juliet. "It is not very long since she last favoured us with a call. Why did she come again so soon?"
"Well, really she came to see you this afternoon, Juliet," said Mrs. Tracy, with some hesitation. "She—in fact—I am afraid you will hardly be pleased—but the truth is you remember that at church on Thursday evening, Mrs. Staines came in late and took a seat in front of us?"