I was preparing to get out and rouse one of the slumbering inhabitants when I heard the voices of women. They were coming down a side road and looking up it I saw three figures moving toward me, their shadows slanting black in front of them. At the gate of a large, white-walled house, two of them turned in, their good-nights clear on the frosty air, and the third advanced in my direction. I could see her skirts, light-colored below her long dark coat, and her head tied up in some sort of scarf. By their clothes and voices I judged them to be servant girls coming back from a party. As she approached I hailed her with a careful question: "I beg your pardon, but I think I’m lost. Can you tell me where I am?" "I can," she said, drawing up by the car. "You’re in the Azalea Woods Estates." "Oh, I _am_ a bit out of my way. The Azalea Woods Estates," I surveyed the scattered houses and wide-cut avenues, "I’ve heard of them but never seen them before. Doesn’t a Mrs. Whitehall live here?" The girl smiled; she had a pleasant, good-natured face. "She surely does—in the Regan cottage over beyond the crest there. I’m living with her, doing the heavy work, until she gets settled. I belong on the big farm, but as she was lonesome and had no girl I said I’d come over and stay till her daughter joined her." I smothered a start—_could_ Molly have made a mistake? "Her daughter, eh? Isn’t her daughter with her now?" "No, sir. She’s coming tomorrow afternoon, then I’m going home. We’ll have the cottage all ready for her. She’s not expected till the 2.40 from town. Do you know the ladies?" I bent over the wheel, afraid even by that pale light my face might show too much. Molly _had_ made a mistake, sent me out here on a fruitless quest, wasted three or four precious hours. I could have wrung her neck. I heard my voice veiled and husky as I answered: "Only by hearsay. I knew Miss Whitehall was the head of the enterprise, that’s all. Er—er—it’s Azalea I’m aiming for. How do I get there?" She laughed. "Well you _are_ out of your way. You’ll have to go back to the Junction on the main line. Then follow the road straight ahead and you’ll strike Azalea—about twenty miles farther on." "Thank you," I said and began to back the car for the turn. "No thanks," she answered and as I swung around called out a cheery "Good night."