A few minutes later there tripped down the garden-walk a trimly attired young housemaid.
The mistress had seen her from the window and thought she looked cold and tired. Would she come into the house to rest?
Joan answered with a tinge of color on her cheek. She felt a little like a beggar.
“Thank yo'; I'll come,” she said. “If th' mistress is Mrs. Galloway, I ha' a letter fur her fro' Lancashire.”
Mrs. Galloway met them on the threshold.
“The young woman, ma'am,” said the servant, “has a letter from Lancashire.”
“From Lancashire!” said Mrs. Galloway.
“Fro' Riggan, mistress,” said Joan. “Fro' Miss Anice. I'm Joan Lowrie.”
That Joan Lowrie was a name familiar to her was evident by the change in Mrs. Galloway's face. A faint flush of pleasure warmed it, and she spoke quickly.
“Joan Lowrie!” she said. “My dear child's friend! Then I know you very well. Come into the room, my dear.”