"Can I believe my eyes? Who would have thought of meeting you here!"
Turning instantly they confronted a handsome, middle-aged lady, dressed as a widow, whose comely face was wreathed in smiles. She was called Mrs. Lute, and had been a near neighbour of theirs in London.
"Oh, how glad I am!" Mrs. Fowler exclaimed. "It is good to see you again! Are you staying in the neighbourhood?"
"Yes; I have taken a furnished house at N— for two months. I saw it advertised, came to see it, and the result is that here I am! Why, how well you look! And you were such a wreck when you left town! Margaret, too, is looking all the better for the change of air! I suppose you are still at Yelton?"
"Oh, yes! Why haven't you been to see us?"
"I have only been here a week. But, come, walk home with me, and have a cup of tea."
"I should like to, but I have some errands to execute. Oh, Margaret!" And Mrs. Fowler turned to her little daughter eagerly. "Surely you could do the errands! See, here is the list of what I want on this paper! Is your home far from here?" she inquired of Mrs. Lute.
"No, you must have passed it—a thatched, whitewashed house, with a porch covered with clematis and roses."
"Oh, yes, I noticed it!" Margaret cried. "Mother, why don't you and Mrs. Lute drive back in the carriage, and I will join you as soon as I have done the shopping?"
Thus it was arranged. Margaret was quite excited at meeting an old acquaintance, for Mrs. Lute had long been on the friendliest terms with her neighbours in town. She was one of the kindest of women, and had been exceedingly sympathetic during Mrs. Fowler's serious illness in the spring.