Miss Isabel was watering and tending her lilies. She looked pale and ill as she bent over the tall stalks, in her white morning gown, dusting the glossy leaves, and showering them from her little watering-pot. Margery thought that she had never seen her beloved Miss Isabel look so weary and sad, and fear for her health for a moment drove all thought of the letter from her mind.
"Dear Miss Isabel, are you ill?" she cried, running to throw her arms around her.
Miss Isabel brightened as she turned to meet her.
"Why, my Margaret!" she cried; "you startled me! What a very early bird you are! No, I am not ill, only a trifle tired, and perhaps a little sad."
This recalled Margery to her errand.
"I brought you a letter, Lady Alma Cara," she said.
Miss Isabel set down the watering-pot, and put out her hand.
"Was it a special delivery that you came so early?" she asked.
"I think it was," said Margery, "though it was not marked."