Annie looked at her, the tears of mortification still standing in her eyes.  “I suppose I must go and do the best I can,” she said, “but, aunt, please tell me one thing.  Did you invite any other people here?  Mr Croft spoke as if he expected to see other visitors, and if they ask anything more about it, I don’t know what to say.”

“The only other people I invited,” said the old lady with a grim grin, “were the King of Norway, and the Prime Minister of Spain, and neither of them could come.”  Annie said no more, but hurrying back to the house, she ordered dinner to be served immediately.  At first the meal was not a very lively one.  The young hostess pro tempore explained the absence of the mistress of the house by stating that she had had a nervous attack—­which was quite true—­and that she begged them to excuse her until after dinner.  The two guests expressed their regret at this unfortunate indisposition, but each felt a degree of embarrassment at the absence of Mrs Keswick.  Roberta, who had heard many stories of the old woman, guessed at the true reason, and if the distance had not been so great, she would have gone home that afternoon.  Lawrence Croft, of course, could imagine no reason for the old lady’s absence, except the one that had been given them, but he suspected that there must be some other.  He did his best, however, to make pleasant conversation; and Roberta, who began to have a tender feeling for the little lady at the head of the table, who, she could easily see, had been placed in an unpleasant position, seconded his efforts with such effect that, when the little party had concluded their dinner with a course of hot pound cake and cream sauce, they were chatting together quite sociably.

In about ten minutes after they had all gone into the parlor, Miss Annie excused herself, and presently returned with a message to Miss March that Mrs Keswick would be very glad to see her in another room.  This was a very natural message from an elderly lady, who was not well, but Roberta arose and walked out of the parlor with a feeling as if she were about to enter the cage of an erratic tigress.  But she met with no such creature.  She saw in the back room, into which she was ushered, a small old woman, dressed very plainly, who came forward to meet her, extending both hands, into one of which Roberta placed one of her own.

“I may as well say at once, Roberta March,” said Mrs Keswick, “that the reason I didn’t come to meet you when you first arrived was, that I couldn’t get over, all of a sudden, the feelings I have had against your family for so many years.”

“Why then, Mrs Keswick,” said Roberta, very coldly, “did you ask me to come?”

“Because I wanted you to come,” said Mrs Keswick, “and because I thought I was stronger than I turned out to be; but you must make allowances for the stiffness which gets into old people’s dispositions as well as their backs.  I want you to understand, however, that I meant all I said in that letter, and I am very glad to see you.  If anything in my conduct has seemed to you out of the way, you must set it down to the fact that I was making a very sudden turn, and starting out on a new track in which I hope we shall all keep for the rest of our lives.”