She was clad in an old-fashioned brown silk gown and a circular brown cloak, whilst a poke bonnet covered her head, the hair on which was as white as snow and arranged in little corkscrew curls. Her figure was slight, and as upright as a dart; her eyes singularly blue and clear, and so youthful in expression that they contrasted oddly with her wrinkled countenance, which was one network of fine lines. It was difficult to guess from her appearance what age she was, but she was known to be nearer ninety than eighty; she never thought of herself as old, though, and was so lively in her manner, and juvenile in her conversation at times, that she often proved a puzzle to new acquaintances. "Do I intrude?" she asked in a high piping voice, as she stood just within the room, looking at the table laden with working materials. "If so, I will go, and call upon you at a more convenient season." "We are very pleased to see you, dear Miss Goodwin," Mrs. Mickle said cordially, as she took her visitor's little hand, encased in a baggy, brown kid glove, and pressed it kindly. "Come near the fire, and warm yourself; I am sure you must be cold." "Oh no, not very," Miss Goodwin responded; nevertheless, she allowed herself to be placed in an easy chair by the fireside. "I left my waterproof and goloshes in the hall," she explained, for it was one of her peculiarities, however fine the weather might be, to be prepared for rain. "The sun is shining brightly now," she went on, "but who can say how long it will be before the clouds come? We never know." "No, never," Mrs. Mickle agreed, smiling pleasantly. "I remember once going to a picnic attired in a muslin gown," Miss Goodwin continued, looking thoughtful, "and before the day was over the rain descended in torrents, drenching me to the skin; I had foolishly omitted taking my waterproof and goloshes with me. I learnt a lesson then which I have never forgotten, for I caught a severe cold, and spoilt my gown—a new one." Dinah could not restrain a slight laugh, for she had heard this story so many times before; Miss Goodwin had a number of stock tales which she was in the habit of telling over and over again. "Dinah, my dear child, you have not spoken to me yet!" the old lady exclaimed, as the little girl's laugh attracted her attention. "I am waiting to do so, Miss Goodwin," Dinah answered, feeling rather ashamed of her merriment, though the visitor was quite unconscious of its cause. She bent and kissed the other's wrinkled cheek. "How do you do?" she said. "I am very well, thank you, my dear. I need not inquire how you are, for you look blooming. Such a rosy face! Such bright eyes! Dear me, Mrs. Mickle, how old these young people make us feel!" It was another of Miss Goodwin's peculiarities that she always spoke of herself as a contemporary of Mrs. Mickle's; and although she talked of feeling old, that was certainly not the case, for to the end of her days she was always young in heart.