She overtook him on the door-step.
"Mr.Dunstable, may I speak to you ?" He turned in astonishment, showing a grim pallor which touched her pity.
"I know your mother and father," said Doris hurriedly; "at least my husband and I were staying at Crosby Ledges some weeks ago, and my husband is now in Scotland with your people.

His name is Arthur Meadows.
I am Mrs.Meadows.

I--I don't know whether I could help you.

You seem"-- her smile flashed out--"to be in a horrid mess!" The young man looked in perplexity at the small, trim lady before him, as though realising her existence for the first time.

Her honest eyes were bent upon him with the same expression she had often worn when Arthur had come to her with some confession of folly--the expression which belongs to the maternal side of women, and is at once mocking and sweet.