"Good gracious!" went on Blair in his dilemma. "The Doctor told me he had written to Wales some time ago; but he supposed Mrs. Sanker could not make it convenient to come; and yesterday he wrote again, saying there was no necessity for it, as Sanker was out of danger. I don't know what on earth to do with her," repeated Blair, who had a habit of getting hopelessly bewildered on occasions. "Hall! Where's Mrs. Hall?" As he went calling out down the flagged passage, a boy came whistling to the door, carrying a carpet-bag: Miss Sanker's luggage. The coach she had had to take on leaving the rail put her down half-a-mile away, and she walked up in the sun, leaving her bag to be brought after her. It seemed that we were going in for mistakes. When I went to her, and began to say who I was, she mistook me for Tod. It made me laugh. "Tod is a great, strong fellow, as tall as Mr. Blair, Miss Sanker. I am only Johnny Ludlow." "Edward has told me all about you both," she said, taking my hand, and looking into my face with her sweet eyes. "Tod's proud and overbearing, though generous; but you have ever been pleasant with him. I am afraid I shall begin to call you 'Johnny' at once." "No one ever calls me anything else; except the masters here." "You must have heard of me--Mary?" "But you are not Mary?" "Yes, I am." That she was telling truth any fellow might see, and yet at first I hardly believed her. Sanker had told us his sister Mary was beautiful as an angel. _Her_ face had no beauty in it, so to say; it was only kind, nice, and loving. People called Mrs. Parrifer a beautiful woman; perhaps I had taken my notions of beauty from her; she had a Roman nose, and great big eyes that rolled about, had a gruff voice, and a lovely peach-and-white complexion (but people said it was paint), and looked three parts a fool. Mary Sanker was just the opposite to all this, and her cheeks were dimpled. But still she had not what people call beauty. "May I go up and see Edward?" "I should think so. Mr. Blair, I suppose, will be back directly. He is looking very ill: you will not be frightened at him?" "After picturing him in my mind as dead, he will not frighten me, however ill he may look." "I should say the young lady had better take off her bonnet afore going in. Young Mr. Sanker haven't seen bonnets of late, and might be scared." The interruption came from Hall; we turned, and saw her standing there. She spoke resentfully, as if Miss Sanker had offended her; and no doubt she had, by coming when the house was not in company order, and had nothing better to send in for dinner but cold mutton and half a rhubarb pie. Hall would have to get the mutton hashed now, which she would never have done for me and Blair. "Yes, if you please; I should much like to take my bonnet off," said Miss Sanker, going up to Hall with a smile. "I think you must be Mrs. Hall. My brother has talked of you."