They paused, and looked in astonishment at the withered face beneath the big, shady hat; there was a distinctly friendly light in the old lady's blue eyes, and she nodded and smiled in a most genial fashion. "How is your father?" she continued affably. "Was he much tired after his journey yesterday? I heard he had been very ill; but I trust he will soon be set up in health." "He was very tired last night," Angel answered, "and he is rather tired this morning, but Uncle Edward said he bore the journey very well, considering how ill he has been." "Ah, he will soon get well in this beautiful air!" Miss Goodwin declared. "You have always lived in London, have you not?" "Yes, always!" they answered. "Ah, I was never there in my life; I have always lived at Wreyford. In London they tell me you might not know your next-door neighbours! I should not like that." And she shook her head decidedly. "We did not know our next-door neighbours," Angel admitted with a smile. "Really? How strange! I know every one in Wreyford, and every one knows me. Now, which of you is the elder?" "I am," the little girl answered, thinking the old lady was very fond of asking questions, "although Gerald is so much taller than I am." "Gerald, is he called? And you? What is your name?" "Angelica." "But we always call her Angel," Gerald explained; "Angelica, is such a mouthful." "Angel is a very sweet name, to my mind," Miss Goodwin said gravely. "Are you on your way to the town?" "Yes," Angel assented. She hesitated, and then said apologetically, "I hope you did not think us very rude for stopping, and looking in at the gate. We were admiring your pretty house, and beautiful garden; we never saw such lovely flowers growing before!" "Come in, and I will give you some with great pleasure," Miss Goodwin said, with an inviting smile as she opened the gate for them to enter. "I did not think you rude at all. You are fond of flowers?" "Oh yes!" they both replied eagerly; and Angel added, "Father loves them too." Suspended from Miss Goodwin's waist was a chatelaine, from which she detached a pair of scissors, and proceeded to cut some of her finest blooms. "I am going to make a nosegay for your father," she informed the children, "because he is an invalid, and sick folks like to have little attentions paid them." "Oh, he will be so pleased!" Angel cried, her eyes shining with gratitude, "How very kind of you!"