Gaga and Sally reached Penterby in a very different mood and a very different state of health from that which had marked their arrival on the previous visit. The station, with its confusing platforms and connecting bridges, was by now familiar to Sally, and she was able to turn at once to a porter and give him instructions. Whereas before they had walked the short distance between the station and the hotel they were now forced to take an open, horse-drawn, cab. It stood waiting when they reached the small station yard, the horse still nibbling feebly at dropped oats upon the paving and with its breath blowing them farther away. The few little cottages near the station were passed in an instant, and the old-fashioned main street of Penterby, reached after a short run between a hedge upon one side and a tall wooden paling upon the other, was about them. Above, the sky was brilliantly blue. In front the houses rose towards the hill-top as of old. There was peace here, if Sally could find it. And she could see the bridge, and the ivy-covered hotel, and the gold-lettered board. She sat as if crushed in her seat in the cab, staring out at the hotel with an expression of strain and eagerness. Beside her Gaga, tired by the journey, yawned behind his long hand, his hat tilted over his eyes, and his mouth always a little open. It was a strange return, and Sally had ado to preserve any lightness of step and tone as she jumped down from the cab and went into the hotel. As before, she noticed the silence and emptiness of the small bar, and the room beyond; and as she tapped loudly Mrs. Tennant came from another room. This time it was Sally who took charge of everything. Gaga drooped in the background, a feeble figure. But he gathered strength to smile at Mrs. Tennant and to greet her. "I'm not well, Mrs. Tennant," he said. "I've come to get ... get ... get well. My wife's ill, too. You ... you must be very kind to us." "My!" exclaimed Mrs. Tennant, in a fat voice of concern. Her swollen lips were parted in dismay. "But you _both_ look so bad! Of course: you can have the same room you had before. Come up!" She led the way. Sally again caught a glimpse of the drawing-room carpet in its brilliant mixture of reds and blues and yellows, and was immediately afterwards drawn into the old dark bedroom opening upon the glass-covered balcony. She stood in dismay, suddenly regretful that they had come to be stifled there. "Can we have some lunch?" she asked. "My husband's...." "Of course." Mrs. Tennant's geniality was benignant. But in her eyes there remained that unappeasable caution which Sally had previously noticed. "At once." Sally slipped out of the room with her. They stood in the narrow drab passage--two black-clothed figures notably contrasted in age and development. Mrs. Tennant was so stout, and Sally so slim, that the difference between them was emphasised by the similarity of clothing.