"Shall I tell you how we were met at the Elephant and Castle by a footman of most gentlemanlike appearance (his livery excepted), who, with a sagacity which somewhat puzzled us, discovered that we were 'the young ladies that were expected,' and led us to the carriage, firmly opposing my efforts to fulfil the last home orders I had received, to 'look after the box?' How in the carriage we found a lady handsomely dressed in black, who came out to meet us, and seemed so anxious for our comfort, and so much interested in our arrival, that we naturally supposed her to be the lady who had invited us, till we discovered that she was a lady's maid; and on arriving found our hostess quite another sort of person, with no appearance at all of being particularly interested in our arrival, which I have since found to be the case with the heads of some other country houses. "It was a large house, reminding me of the Manor within, but prettier outside; old and irregularly built, with mullioned windows, and odd wings and corners. A glowing, well-kept garden contrasted prettily with the grey stone, and the grounds seemed magnificent to our eyes. "We were shown into the drawing-room, where the real lady of the house sat at a dainty writing-table, scratching away at a letter that was no doubt as affectionate as the one which my mother had received. She was shortsighted, which seemed to be the case also with most of the other ladies in the room; this, perhaps, was why they stared so hard at us, and then went on with the elaborate pieces of needlework on which all of them were engaged. It seemed to take our hostess a second or two to see us, and another second or two to recall who we were; then she came forward very kindly, showed us where to sit, and asked after my mother. Whilst I was replying, she crossed to the fire-place, and rang the bell; and I felt slightly surprised by her seeming to wish for no further news of her old friend. She asked if we had had a pleasant journey, and Fatima had hardly pronounced a modest yes, before she begged we would allow her to finish her letter, and went back to the spindle-legged table. Whilst she scratched we looked around us. Three or four ladies were in the room, more or less young, more or less pretty, more or less elegantly dressed, and all with more or less elaborate pieces of needlework. There was one gentleman, young and dark, with large brown eyes, who seemed to be employed in making paper pellets of an old letter, chatting the while in a low voice to a young lady with a good deal of red hair. We afterwards found out that he was an Irishman, familiarly called 'Pat' by some of the young ladies, who seemed to be related to him. We had seen all this when the man-servant appeared at the door. "'Where is Miss Lucy, Thompson?' our hostess asked, sharply. "'I will inquire, ma'am,' Thompson replied, with the utmost softness, and vanished.