So they went through the little iron gate, and an old man came hobbling across the street to speak to them. "Good morning, ladies," he said in a high trembling voice. "I hear you're going to live here. I hear my darter's a-going to have you for a neighbour. Well! well! Who'd a-thought it?" His intention was kindly, but his manner showed a sort of triumph underneath: it was in some way gratifying to him that Miss Ethel, who used to give him tobacco and other little comforts, had come down to the same level as his daughter. Not that he had received anything lately, because Miss Ethel had nothing to give, while his son-in-law made good wages and his daughter let rooms. At any rate Miss Ethel missed the power to give far more than he missed the tobacco; and that from no desire to patronize--though perhaps she did like the gratifying glow of that feeling a little--but because of the real goodness and generosity at the bottom of her nature. "I'm sure we shall be glad to have such good neighbours," she said pleasantly. "Yes, yes. My darter's family wants for nothing. They've gotten one of these 'ere gramophones an all," chuckled the old man. "You'll hear it through the wall and it'll mebbe cheer you up if you feel dowly. But it's hard moving at your time of life." Then he went off, chuckling and muttering to himself, and Mrs. Bradford and Miss Ethel walked up the tiny path to the house which was to be their home for the rest of their lives. But before they reached the door it opened from within, and there stood Laura Temple. She was smiling, and yet her kind eyes were bright with tears which she could scarcely keep from falling--for the two ageing women looked somehow so forlorn in the bright sunshine on the threshold of all this strangeness. But after the briefest pause Miss Ethel relieved the situation by saying briskly: "So you have opened the windows. Now that was good of you." "Oh, Nanty did that. She's here, too," said Laura. Then they all went through the narrow passage into the front room. "There is only one corner where I can have my chair," said Mrs. Bradford immediately. "Laura dear, those who lead an active life can't understand how important it is for anyone like me to have a chair in the right place. But you have not been well yourself. I can quite understand your not wanting to go away on a honeymoon when you are not feeling well. I shall never forget having a bilious attack on my own honeymoon. I would always recommend a small medicine chest as part of the wedding outfit--sore-throat remedies and gregory powder, and so on. My dear husband said that, so far as he was concerned, biliousness did not destroy romance; but there are bridegrooms and bridegrooms, and you never know until----"