Mrs. Prymmer let them out at the street door, compressed her lips as the widow whispered, "Ain't she a beauty? What a pity she don't go to church!" and then moved slowly back in the direction of the parlour. She would address a remonstrance to Derrice on the subject of the eyeglass, but on her appearance the girl lost with such rapidity her sad, reflective attitude, and putting her glass in her eye fixed it with such a defiant expression on her mother-in-law, that that good lady was surprised and confused, and could only mutter a hasty, "Are you going out?" "Yes," said Derrice, briefly, and she was just about to sweep by her when she was checked by a question from the hall in an animated voice, "Is Mrs. Mercer at home? Mrs. Mercer, not Mrs. Prymmer,--I don't want to see her." Mrs. Prymmer heard the clearly spoken sentence, yet she rushed forward with outstretched hand, "Why, Miss Gastonguay, you're a sight for sore eyes." "Am I?" said the lady, coolly, and overlooking the offered hand. "I don't think your eyes have ever beheld me with much favour since I sat on the bench behind you and the other small girls at school, and for the sake of example exposed your cheating at lessons to the master. Do go away, Hippolyta Prymmer,--you hate me, you know you do, and upon my word I've no love for you. What is the use of being sneaky when old age is creeping on you? We kept it up when we were young; do let us get through the death-dance honestly." Mrs. Prymmer with an indignant face retreated into the hall, and left her daughter-in-law alone with her caller. "That's the way to manage her, my dear," said Miss Gastonguay, shortly. "She is a born bully; if you don't bully her, she will bully you. She ought to have died in her cradle and gone a happy infant to paradise. Will you come and take a drive with me? My niece was to call this afternoon on you, but she is off somewhere gallivanting with the clergyman, so I thought I'd come myself. First I said I wouldn't, then I repented, like the man in the Bible. Come, put your hat on, child. I'm all right. You needn't distrust me, I'm Jane Gastonguay, spinster, and owner of half Rossignol. You couldn't sell this house you are standing in without my permission. Mr. Huntington sent me, so he will vouch for me. I'll neither upset you nor throw you in among the ice-blocks in the river. Come, I can't wait." Derrice suppressed the surprise with which she at first surveyed the little, gentlemanly, short-legged lady in the broadcloth coat, and with a murmured, "You are very kind," hurried up-stairs and got a hat and jacket. A few minutes later they were going side by side down the stone steps and across the snow-covered patch of lawn to the street. "Have you seen Rossignol yet?" asked Miss Gastonguay. "No, except for one or two short walks up and down this avenue."