No one had seen the mother; but the daughter, who had answered the door or gone out on errands, was said to be as handsome as she was haughty. They responded to no friendly overtures, refusing entrance even to Mr. Langley, and seemed to feel themselves superior to the place and the people and to the cottage where they lived which was, indeed, a simple dwelling when compared with the simplest summer homes of the wealthy. For they were said to have been enormously wealthy and suddenly to have found themselves penniless at the death of the husband and father who had gambled or speculated until he had come to his last farthing. It was understood that they were relatives or connections of the president of the bank at Wenham, who had offered them the shelter of the cottage in the lane. Anna Miller attributed their desire for seclusion to grief over the death of the husband and father rather than to pride. She couldn’t help fearing what had evidently occurred to none other that he might have died by his own hand, and she felt that such a shock might well leave them too sore and sick at heart to wish to see any human being. Nevertheless she said to herself, with an assurance that was made up of humility and warm-heartedness as well as of vanity, that she would somehow effect an entrance where others failed. When she ran straight into the strange girl’s arms on the day she was fleeing from the parsonage and the spectre she had elicited, the one shock counteracted the other. Controlling her hysterical shuddering, she murmured an earnest apology. “Dear me! I might have knocked you down, butting into you that way. You are sure I didn’t hurt you?” “Not at all,” the girl repeated quietly, and Anna liked her voice as much as her dark, pretty face. “But what was it?” she asked. “Was someone or something chasing you?” Anna smiled rather wanly as she moved back to get the support of the stone wall which fenced the lane. “Not exactly, unless it was a ghost,” she said in her usual droll way. “Sit down here, won’t you, and I’ll tell you about it.” “I mustn’t stop,” the girl said nervously. “I only thought--you needed help.” “So I do, the worst way. Honest, I’m like a rag. My knees shake and----” The stranger sat down on the wall beside her and put her arm about her shelteringly. Anna leaned against her gratefully and closed her eyes for a few moments. The older girl gazed at her wonderingly. An hungry, almost a starved look came into the dark eyes and the arm which supported Anna clasped her almost fiercely. Anna opened her eyes and smiled without moving. “You’ll think I’m a perfect baby,” she declared, “but truly I have had a queer sort of shock.” She sat erect and slipped down, then seated herself again. “I’m too wobbly to walk just yet. I’ll wait a bit until I feel better or see a waggon. I wish you felt like waiting with me?” The other girl’s brow puckered in a slight frown. Anna introduced herself.