"'Mrs.' of course! I beg your pardon, ma'am! But you looked so young, and I may say childish, and I didn't notice the widow's cap before," apologized the hostess.
"Well, as we had no friends in the town—no one with whom we could stop to dinner—I and my brother set out to walk home again. He is an invalid, and is quite exhausted with fasting and fatigue. So perhaps, under the circumstances, you would not mind letting us have a parlor to rest in and a little dinner."
"Of course not, ma'am; for under such circumstances it is clearly my duty to entertain you," answered the good soul, who, under no possible circumstances, would have been false to her ideas of right.
"You are very kind. I thank you very much," said Mary Grey, sweetly.
"Here is a room at your and your brother's disposal, ma'am. No one will intrude upon you here," said the hostess, opening a door that led into a neat back parlor, whose windows overlooked the garden and orchard attached to the house.
"Come," said Mary Grey, beckoning to her companion.
"Dear me! I never saw a brother and sister look so much alike as you two do," remarked the hostess, admiringly, as she showed them into the back parlor.
She left them, promising to send in a nice dinner.
"And coffee with it, if you please," added Mary Grey, as the landlady went out.
"Yes, certainly, ma'am, if you wish it," she answered, as she disappeared.