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"That's her! I must go and meet her."
He went into the hall, reaching the front door just as the pony-cart drew
up with a lady in black sitting beside the driver. Mrs. Mawson looked
after him. She wondered why his lordship was in such a flurry. "It's this
living alone. He isn't used to have women about. And it's a pity he
didn't stay on as he was."
Meanwhile the lady in the pony-cart, as she alighted, saw a tall man, of
somewhat remarkable appearance, standing on the steps of the porch. Her
expectations had been modest; and that she would be welcomed by her
employer in person on the doorstep of Beechmark had not been among them.
Her face flushed, and a pair of timid eyes met those of Lord Buntingford
as they shook hands.
"The train was very late," she explained in a voice of apology.
"They always are," said Lord Buntingford. "Never mind. You are in quite
good time. Miss Pitstone hasn't arrived. Norris, take Mrs. Friend's
luggage upstairs."
An ancient man-servant appeared. The small and delicately built lady on
the step looked at him appealingly.


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