A brass plate was on the door: “Mr. Samuel Galley-Campaigne, Solicitor.” It was a narrow three-storied house, quite respectable, and as depressing as the road in which it stood. Leonard knocked doubtfully. After a few moments’ delay the door was opened by a boy who had a pen stuck behind his ear. “Oh, you want Mrs. Galley!” he said. “There you are--back-parlour!” and ran up the stairs again, leaving the visitor on the doormat. He obeyed instructions, however, and opened the door indicated. He found himself in a small back room--pity that the good old word “parlour” has gone out!--where there were sitting three ladies representing three stages of human life--namely, twenty, fifty, and seventy. The table was laid for tea; the kettle was on the old-fashioned hob--pity that the hospitable hob has gone!--and the kettle was singing; the buttered toast and the muffins were before the fire, within the high old-fashioned fender; the tea-things and the cake and the bread-and-butter were on the table, and the ladies were in their Sunday “things,” waiting for him. It was with some relief that Leonard observed the absence of Mr. Samuel. The eldest of the three ladies welcomed him. “My grand-nephew Leonard,” she said, giving him her hand, “I am very glad--very glad indeed to make your acquaintance. This”--she introduced the lady of middle life--“is my daughter-in-law, the widow--alas!--of my only son. And this”--indicating the girl--“is my grand-daughter.” The speaker was a gentlewoman. The fact was proclaimed in her speech, in her voice, in her bearing, in her fine features. She was tall, like the rest of her family; her abundant white hair was confined by a black lace cap, the last of the family possessions; her cheek was still soft, touched with a gentle colour and a tender bloom; her eyes were still full of light and warmth; her hands were delicate; her figure was still shapely; there were no bending of the shoulders, no dropping of the head. She reminded Leonard of the Recluse; but her expression was different: his was hard and defiant; hers was gentle and sad.