Jackie looked puzzled, but he said no more. That afternoon the boys had tea with their aunt in the kitchen. Lizzie had gone to her home, which was in Bristol.
During the meal Mrs. Mead remarked—
"I suppose Mrs. Winter's grown tired of your company, as she doesn't ask you to tea with her now. I'm afraid you wore out your welcome."
"Oh, no!" cried Bob. Then, as Mrs. Mead laughed, he flushed and said: "I think she can't afford to have us to tea any longer, Aunt Martha."
Mrs. Mead became serious in a minute.
"I wonder if she can be as poor as that?" she said thoughtfully. "She may be. She had no fire the other day when I went up for her rent, and the weather was bitter. Poor old soul! I know what I'll do; I'll ask her to supper. I owe her something for her kindness to you boys."
So Mrs. Winter was asked to supper, and came—Stray too. Afterwards she sat by the fire for half an hour, and that night she went to bed warm, which she had not done before for several weeks.
The next day, on their return from school in the afternoon, Bob and Jackie learnt that their aunt had had a visitor.
"I never thought to see her again," she said, her face expressive of gratification, "and I was never more surprised in my life than when she threw back her veil—she came in a motor-car—and I recognised Lady Margaret Browning."
"Oh!" cried Bob excitedly. Then he drew a deep sigh of disappointment.