"Oh, yes, I know the one you mean, miss," said Millicent. "Mrs Gresham lives there, miss. I don't know that she's an artist—she lets apartments in the summer—and has teas in the garden, miss. Does vurry nicely in the season with visitors, but she's terrible took up with rheumatics in the winter—has it something chronic, she does. But she's a nice, respectable person—always has her daily paper reg'lar from us."
"Her garden must look lovely in the summer," remarked Pamela. "There are some fine old Scotch fir trees in it, I noticed." She had already taken note of these particular trees by the cottage, for sketching later on; they were the only Scotch firs that she had seen in Barrowfield so far.
As she and Isobel walked across the green on their way back to Chequertrees the picturesque blacksmith's forge claimed her attention, and she stopped to admire it. As she did so a woman came down the lane beside the forge, and passing in front of the two girls walked quickly over the green. Pamela's attention was immediately attracted to her, firstly because she was carrying an easel (also a basket, and a bag, evidently containing a flat box); secondly, because she was dressed very quaintly in a grey cloak and a small grey hat of original design; thirdly, because she went into the garden gate of the little white cottage opposite Chequertrees; and lastly, because, as the woman turned to latch the gate after her, Pamela caught sight of her face.
"Who does she remind me of?" said Pamela. "I'm sure I've seen some one like her——"
But Isobel was not listening to Pamela.
"If Sir Henry Prior is related to us, mater will be frightfully interested to hear what——"
But Pamela was not listening to Isobel.
"Oh, p'r'aps she doesn't live there then—I wonder," said Pamela, as the woman in grey, after handing the basket in at the front door of the cottage and speaking a few words to somebody inside, who was invisible to Pamela, came quickly out of the gate again and hurried away down the village, the easel under one arm and the bag under the other.
"Who does she remind me of?" puzzled Pamela, as she and Isobel turned in at the gate of Chequertrees.
CHAPTER VII