"Are you Mrs. Granger?"
The little woman nodded, and the apple-bloom color spread to her blue-veined temples.
"I am Mrs. Jerome," she continued. "You must have heard your—husband speak of me."
"Yes," answered Mrs. Granger, simply, "I've heard tell of you."
Meantime she was studying her guest with innocent curiosity—the lovely proud face, the supple figure, the quiet elegance of the toilet, with all its subtle perfection of detail. It did not irritate her as it did Mrs. Squires; it only filled her with gentle wonder and enthusiasm. She tried at length to shake off the timidity which possessed her.
"You must be real tired," she said gently. "It's a long walk. Won't you come in?"
"Thank you," said the lady. "I think I am very tired. If you would be so kind as to give me a chair, I would sit here in the shade awhile."
She sank into the chair which Mrs. Granger brought, and drank eagerly the cool water which she proffered.
"Thank you," she said. "It is pleasant, here, very. How lovely your flowers are."
"Yes," said Mrs. Granger, with a show of pride, "I love flowers, and they always bloom well for me." She went to the beds and began gathering some of the choicest. At the same moment, Mrs. Rogers came through the hall. As she saw the visitor, her face flushed, and she glanced suspiciously, resentfully, from Mrs. Jerome to her daughter.