The next day when she met her lover she was cheerful enough. It was at the front door of the Tavern; Dr. Lavendar was there, too, waiting for the morning stage for Mercer. "Well! well! So I am going to have company, am I?" he said, for Miss Lydia was waiting for it, too. Her bonnet was on one side, her shabby jacket, fading from black to green on the shoulders, was split at the elbow seams, and the middle finger of each glove was worn through; but her eyes were shining with pleasure. "Yes," she said, nodding; "I'm going." Her presence seemed to be a surprise to Mr. Rives, who had strayed forth from the breakfast-room to see the stage start. "You are going to Mercer?" he said, his small smile fading into an astonished question. "Yes," Miss Lydia said, laughing, and suddenly she gave a little jump of happiness. "I haven't been to Mercer for nine years. Oh, dear! isn't it just delightful!" "But, why?" William persisted, in an amazed aside. "Oh, that's the secret!" cried Miss Lydia, clambering into the stage; "you'll know sometime." "I suppose you wish to arrange for the alterations of your house?" William said; "but considering the stage fares back and forth-- Oh, there is Dr. Lavendar." He came round to the other side of the stage, smiling very much. "Well, sir, good-morning! good-morning, sir!" "Hello," Dr. Lavendar said. Mr. Rives rubbed his hands. "I--I was about to say, Dr. Lavendar--that little matter between us--it's of no importance, of course; quite at your convenience, sir; I don't mean to press you--but at your convenience, sir." "What are you talking about?" Dr. Lavendar said, with a puzzled blink. "Well," William said, smiling, "there's no haste, only I thought I'd just remind you. I'm always business-like myself; and that little matter of accommodation--" Dr. Lavendar stared at him. "I am afraid I'm a stupid old fellow; I don't understand." The stage-driver gathered up his reins; Miss Lydia nodded joyously on the back seat, the two other passengers frowned at the delay; so William Rives made haste to explain: "Merely, sir, the stamp I had the pleasure of lending you. But pray don't incommode yourself; I merely remind you; it's of no--" Dr. Lavendar pulled out his shabby leather pocket-book, his hands fairly trembling with haste, and produced the stamp; then he pulled the door to, and as the stage sagged forward and went tugging up the hill, he turned his astonished eyes on Miss Lydia. She had grown very pale, but she said nothing, only looking out of the window and rubbing her little cotton gloves hard together. "Would you have asked him for a receipt?" Dr. Lavendar said, under his breath, chuckling. But when she tried to answer him, there was something in her face that turned Dr. Lavendar grave. The stage jolted on; the two other passengers chatted, then one fell asleep and the other read an almanac. Suddenly Miss Lydia turned sharply round. "It just kills me!" she said.