The Harrison house was like a striped shirt, a broad-check suit, a scarlet tie, with a blatbump figure housed in them, thumbs in sleeve-holes, striding toe-out, gold chain-links dangling, diamond stud flashing, tongue blathering, along the main street. The Ware place was like one quietly-dressed and thoughtful, strolling in a grassy lane.
Down below Daisy was a tuft of shrubbery, and behind this the garden-hose was going merrily, with a sound like fat frying. A spray of water came out from a point near the base of the foliage; and, where it fell, the grass and the scattered coin-like yellow flowers glistened in the morning sun. These soft-petalled wild-flowers were the only manner in which gold or its effect was displayed on the Ware grounds.
Presently the nozzle of the hose came into view, and behind it the rubber tube emerged until Daisy could see a black-sleeved arm, with white cuffs turned back at the wrist. Then, following the arm, there passed into sight a statelily-moving, moderately stout, slightly stooped old lady, with a white lace cap pinned on her gray hair.
Lady Frances Ware, who, for more than three-score of her eighty-two years—ever since, in fact, she had become a member of the Ware household—had been an absolute ruler, possessed a face in which every lineament was almost mesmerically masterful. Beneath the silvered hair that on either side of its straight central parting, was drawn back smoothly under her cap, a forehead, puckered in a Frontenac-like way between the brows, sloped up and forward. Behind her glasses her eyes, keen, dark-blue, and eagle-like, looked out level-irised. Her mouth was bent down at the corner, and, beneath the underthrust lower lip, the chin was gathered tensely.
Evidently she had that uncanny faculty, peculiar to those long habituated to directing a household, of instantly and by instinct detecting the irregular; for she was barely in view, before her eyes travelled up to the balcony where Daisy leaned. Lady Frances adjusted her glasses; looked hard at the girl a moment; then turned off the nozzle of the garden-hose, folded her hands across one another at a point just below her waistband, and glanced off across the lawn toward where the mower was clattering.
"Will," she said, "come here—at once."
The mower stopped obediently; and Daisy, who had drawn back a little, saw the tall figure of Sir William come into view between the trees. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and his neatly-cropped head was bare.
"Yes, mother," he said, as deferentially as though he were ten years old.
"Who," said Lady Frances, "is that—up there? Or do you know?"
Sir William, as he glanced up to the balcony and saw Daisy, gave a little start. Then he nodded and smiled at the girl; and, appearing to square his shoulders a little, turned again to the old lady.