Mrs. Force conducted her latest guest upstairs to a spare room, where the old lady took off her black Canton crape shawl, and her black silk bonnet, and put on her lace cap with white satin ribbons.
And then they went down together.
When they returned to the drawing room they found the place deserted.
Wynnette had carried off young Mrs. Ingle and the two babies to her own and Elva’s room, which was now converted into a day nursery, where Natalie, seated in a low rocking-chair, was putting her baby to sleep, while Elva, with a picture book, was quietly amusing Essie.
“Now, Natty, dear, as you know you are quite at home, you must excuse me, and let me go down to Dr. Peters, who is alone in the drawing room,” said Wynnette, as she kissed her ex-governess and dear friend and left the chamber.
But when she reached the hall below she found that the good rector was well taken care of.
Through the open hall door she saw him and her father walking up and down the piazza, enjoying the fine spring day, and smoking some of the squire’s fine cigars.
So Wynnette went into the drawing room, where she found her mother and the rector’s wife, who had just entered the place.
More visitors.
The gallop and halt of a horse was heard without, and soon after Mr. Sam Grandiere, escorted by Mr. Force and Dr. Peters, entered the drawing room, and made his bow to the lady of the house and her guest, and then shook hands with Wynnette and sat down, looking as red-headed, freckle-faced, bashful and awkward as ever.