Mrs. Clavering, good soul, was like other mothers, and as her darling child went off with Baskerville she thought: “How nice them two look together! And he is such a civil–spoken, sensible young man. Anne deserves a good husband, and if—“ This train of thought was interrupted by General Brandon. He, too, after his luncheon, was out for a Sunday airing, and passing the bench on which Mrs. Clavering sat, the good woman, with new–found courage, looked up at him and actually ventured upon a timid bow. She had recognized him from the first time she had seen him, when she moved into their new and splendid house; and she had a perfectly clear recollection of the old sutler days, when General Brandon was a handsome young captain, who always had a polite word for the sutler’s wife. But she had never before, in the two years they had lived opposite each other, had the courage to speak to him. Her success with Baskerville emboldened her, and as General Brandon made her an elaborate, old–fashioned bow Mrs. Clavering said:— “This used to be Cap’n Brandon—a long time ago, just before the war broke out.” “Yes, madam,” replied General Brandon; “and you, I believe, are Mrs. Clavering. I remember quite well when Mr. Clavering brought you, a blooming bride, to the post.” Mrs. Clavering sighed. She was so lonely in the big house, so continually snubbed by her husband, by her daughters Élise and Lydia, by the uppish footman and the giggling maids; she was so cut off from everything she had known before, that the sight of persons connected with those early days was like water in the desert to her. She smiled a deprecating smile, and answered: “I’ve seen you on the streets often enough. You live opposite our house, don’t you?” “Yes,” said General Brandon. Then Mrs. Clavering made a faint indication that he should sit down, and he placed himself on the bench by her side. “I recognized both you and Senator Clavering,” he went on, “but as neither of you showed any recollection of me I hesitated to speak.” Mrs. Clavering sighed. “You are the first person since I came to Washington that I ever seen as far back as them days at the army post.” General Brandon, the most chivalrous of men, saw in Mrs. Clavering the timid longing to talk about old days and old ways, and he himself had a fondness for reminiscences; so the pair of old fogies entered into talk, feeling a greater degree of acquaintanceship in meeting after that long stretch of years than they had ever known before. When Anne and Baskerville returned, twenty minutes later, quite an active conversation was going on. “Anne, my dear,” said Mrs. Clavering, actually in a self–possessed manner, “this is General Brandon, who lives opposite our house. I knew him in them old times at the army post; and he’s got a daughter, a widder, come home from England, to live with him. Anne, you must go and call on her.”