The glass doors of the red parlour at Greylands' Rest were thrown open to the garden, and to the very few autumn flowers that yet lingered around the window. Dinner was over, and the ladies were back in the parlour again. Little Marie Guise was spending the day there, and was now playing at cat's-cradle with Flora: her mother was talking with Mrs. Castlemaine. Ethel sat drawing.
"Dear me! I think this is Miss Castlemaine."
The words were Madame's, and they all looked up. Yes; advancing round from the wide garden-path in her grey dress and with her stately step, came Mary Ursula. Seeing them sitting there, and the doors open, she had turned aside on her way to the front entrance. Ethel ran out.
"How good of you, Mary! Have you come to stay the afternoon?"
"No, Ethel, dear. I want to see my uncle. Is he at home?"
"I think so. We left him at table. Come in."
Mrs. Castlemaine made much of the visitor. Disliking Mary Ursula at heart, thankful that she had joined the Grey Sisterhood for good and was out of the way of Greylands' Rest, Mrs. Castlemaine made a great show of welcome at these chance visits.
"And why can you not stay now you are here?" asked Mrs. Castlemaine, purring upon Mary as she sat down. "Do take your bonnet off."
"I would stay if I could," said Mary, "but I must be back again by four o'clock. Mr. Knivett sent me a note this morning to say he should be over at that hour with some papers that require my signature."
"Then, Mary, why did you not come some afternoon when you were not expecting Mr. Knivett?" sensibly asked Ethel.