Once more I suspected the driver of a chuckle. My temper was rising. I had not come all that way, and subjected myself to so much discomfort, to be played tricks with. I tolled the bell again. After a few seconds' interval the pit-pat of what was obviously one pair of feet came towards the door. Again a light gleamed through the pane. A key was turned, a chain unfastened, bolts withdrawn; it seemed as if some one had to drag a chair forward before one of these latter could be reached. After a vast amount of unfastening, the door was opened, and on the threshold there stood a girl, with a lighted candle in her hand. The storm rushed in; she put up her hand to shield the light from danger. "Can I see Mrs. Wilson? I'm expected. I'm Mr. Christopher, from London." "Oh!" That was all she said. I looked at her; she at me. The driver's voice came from the background. "I drove him over from the station, Miss. There be a lot of luggage. He do say he's come to stay with you." "Is that you, Tidy? I'm afraid I can offer you nothing to drink. We've lost the key of the cellar, and there's nothing out, except water, and I don't think you'd care for that." "I can't say rightly as how I should, Miss. Next time will do. Be it all right?" The girl continued to regard me. "Perhaps you had better come inside." "I think I had." I went inside; it was time. "Have you any luggage?" I admitted that I had. "Perhaps it had better be brought in." "Perhaps it had." "Do you think that you could manage, Tidy?" "The mare, she'll stand still enough. I should think I could, miss." CHAPTER II. AND THE PERFORMANCE. By degrees my belongings were borne into the hall, hidden under an envelope of snow. The girl seemed surprised at their number. The driver was paid, the cart disappeared, the door was shut; the girl and I were alone together. "We didn't expect that you would come." "Not expect me? But it was all arranged; I wrote to say that I would come. Did you not receive my letter?" "We thought that you were joking." "Joking! Why should you imagine that?" "We were joking." "You were? Then I am to gather that I have been made the subject of a practical joke, and that I am an intruder here?" "Well, it's quite true that we did not think you were in earnest. You see, it's this way, we're alone." "Alone? Who are 'we'?" "Well, it will take a good while to explain, and you look tired and cold." "I am both." "Perhaps you're hungry?" "I am." "I don't know what you can have to eat, unless it's to-morrow's dinner." "To-morrow's dinner!" I stared. "Can I see Mrs. Wilson?" "Mrs. Wilson? That's mamma. She's dead." "I beg your pardon. Can I see your father?" "Oh, father's been dead for years." "Then to whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" "I'm Madge. I'm mother now." "You are--mother now?"