“What fun it is to live here!” repeated Pamela. “It is as good as a play; don’t you like to see them all riding out and in, and the horses prancing, and the shadows coming down the avenue?--it was the greatest luck in the world to come here.” “Put up your foot, my dear,” said her mother, “and don’t catch cold at that window. I’ve seen somebody very like that young lady, but I can’t remember where.” “That was Miss Sara, I suppose,” said Pamela, with a little awe; and she put up her weak foot, and kept her post till the chestnut and his mistress came back, when the excitement was renewed; and Mrs. Preston herself took another look, and wondered where she had seen some one like that. Thus the life of Brownlows became entangled, as it were, in that of the humble dwellers at their gate, before either were aware. Lady Motherwell arrived in a very solid family coach, just as the winter twilight set in; and undoubtedly, on this occasion at least, it was Pamela who had the best of it. Sara awaited the old lady in the drawing-room, ready to administer to her the indispensable cup of tea; and Sir Charles followed his mother, a tall fellow with a mustache which looked like a respirator. As for Lady Motherwell, she was not a pleasant visitor to Sara; but that was for reasons which I have already stated. In herself she was not a disagreeable old woman. She had even a certain _esprit du corps_ which made it evident to her that thus to come in force upon a girl who was alone, was a violent proceeding, and apt to drive the quarry prematurely to bay. So she did her best to conciliate the young mistress of the house, even before she had received her cup of tea. “Charley doesn’t take tea,” she said. “I think we’ll send him off, my dear, to look at the stables, or something. I hate to have a man poking about the room when I want a comfortable chat; and in this nice cozy firelight, too, when they look like tall ghosts about a place. You may go and have your cigar, Charley. Sara and I have a hundred things to say.” Sir Charles was understood to murmur through his respirator that it was awful hard upon a fellow to be banished like this; but nevertheless, being in excellent training, and knowing it to be for his good, he went. Then Lady Motherwell took Sara in her arms for the second time, and gave her a maternal kiss. “My love, you’re looking lovely,” she said. “I’m sorry for poor Charley, to tell the truth; but I knew you’d have enough of him to-night. Now tell me how you are, and all about yourself. I have not seen you for an age.” “Oh, thank you, I’m just as well as ever,” said Sara. “Sit down in this nice low chair, and let me give you some tea.”