"Now I must get you to pay for the cab," Mary went on in the same gay voice, "for I haven't the money, at least, not in my pocket. You will find the place very small and mean, but it is not quite so bad as some of the cottages on the Dashwood estate. If ever good fortune took me back there as mistress I should do a great deal with the cottages on the place. I begin to understand now how trying is the lot of the poor. But I am dreaming again. Please come this way."
Grace Cameron lay on a couch in the window getting as much fresh air as possible. Towards her Lady Dashwood looked with special interest, for Mary had told Grace's story at some length. The girl flushed as she noted the striking personality of her visitor. She essayed to rise from the sofa.
"No, don't you move, my dear," Lady Dashwood said. "Quite by accident I met Mary here, and she insisted upon bringing me to see you both. I think she has told me everything about you. And it was quite natural that I should like to see you. So this is Connie Colam. I think you are a couple of very brave girls."
And Lady Dashwood proceeded to kiss them both in the most natural manner. She found her way into their hearts at once.
"You are a darling," Connie said in her candid manner. "It is good of you, Lady Dashwood. We were eating our hearts out with anxiety when Mary came in. And Mary looks quite the conquering hero, I declare."
"Victory!" Mary cried, "my clever detective scheme has been quite successful. I have brought all we need with me, and the rest will follow on the despatch of a telegram. I have had a long interview with Mrs. Speed, and so far as I can see----"
"I hope you gave her what she deserved," Connie cried.
"I'm ashamed to say I didn't," Mary confessed. "The poor woman appeared to be in distress. She said that she had forgotten all about us, and I believed her. It seems that she has a dissipated, selfish son who has brought her to this pass--Lady Dashwood, what is the matter?"
"The London heat always tries me like this," Lady Dashwood murmured faintly, "I daresay I shall be quite myself when I have had a cup of tea. Connie shall make it for me--Mary says that she has the real art of tea-making. So this is the place where you work. You look as if a good rest would do you good, Grace."
Grace Cameron smiled wearily. It was one of her bad days, and the heat had affected her. Her mind was filled now with pictures of the sea breaking cool over the rocks; she thought of deep woods where the breeze played in the trees.