"How do you do, Mr. Adams?" she cried, in glad tones. "Oh, how glad I am I happened to see you!"
"What!" exclaimed Farmer Jo, in his loud, hearty voice. "It's never the little maid I travelled down from London with! Why, it is! Now, this is a pleasure!"
He took her hand and shook it heartily, then introduced his mother, who was the very opposite to her son in every way, being small and thin, with merry brown eyes like a bird's.
"I suppose you have been to the cathedral too," the old lady said, smiling. "My son and I generally attend the afternoon service on Fridays. We think it a rare treat, don't we, Jo?"
"That we do, mother!"
"It's so quiet and peaceful there, it makes one think of heaven," she continued.
"So it does, so it does," her son agreed.
"I am always grateful to those who gave us our cathedral. How they must have loved God, to have built such a place to His glory! I always feel that when I look at the carving, and—"
She paused, suddenly conscious of the approach of Miss Holcroft. A shyness seemed to come over mother and son, the former made a low, old-fashioned courtesy, the latter took off his hat, and they passed on arm-in-arm.
"Marigold!" said Miss Holcroft, in a horrified tone of voice, "who are those odd-looking people?"