It was at this moment that Paul halted his chaise at the gate, and lightly jumping out, fastened his horse to a tree, and walked up to the front door.
“Who can it be?” thought Mrs. Mudge, hastily adjusting her cap, and taking off her apron.
“I don't know, I'm sure,” said Mr. Mudge, unsuspiciously.
“I declare! I look like a fright.”
“No worse than usual,” said her husband, gallantly.
By this time Paul had knocked.
“Good-morning, sir,” said Mrs. Mudge, deferentially, her respect excited by Paul's dress and handsome chaise.
“Is Mrs. Lee in?” inquired Paul, not caring to declare himself, yet, to his old enemy.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Mudge, obsequiously, though not overpleased to find that this was Aunt Lucy's visitor; “would you like to see her?”
“If you please.”