But now everything seemed bright and clear before her.  After Dora, looking perfectly lovely, as she did this morning, had shone upon Ralph for half an hour, or even less, the old lady felt that if the young man asked her any questions about her telegram she would not in the least mind telling him how she came to send it, giving him, of course, a version of her motive which would make him understand her anxious solicitude, in case anything had happened to any one dear to him, that his arrival should not be delayed an instant, as well as the sympathetic delight she would have felt in witnessing the joy his presence in Barport would cause to the dear ones, alive and well.

This somewhat complicated explanation might need policy and alteration, but Miss Panney now felt quite ready for anything Ralph might ask about the telegram.  If any one else asked any questions, she would answer as happened to please her.

As they drove away Miss Panney immediately began to congratulate Dora on her return to her senses.  She was in high good humor, “You ought to know, my dear, that if the loveliest woman in the world found herself stuck in a quagmire, it would be quite foolish for her to expect that the right sort of man would come and pull her out.  In all probability it would be precisely the wrong sort of man who would do it.  Consequently, it would be wise in her if she saw the right sort of man going by, not only to let him know that she was there, but to let him understand that she was worth pulling out.  All women are born in a quagmire, and some are so anxious to get out that they take the first hand that is stretched toward them, and some, I am sorry to say, never get out at all.  But they are the wise ones who do not leave it to chance, who shall be their liberators.  Number yourself, my dear, among this happy class.  I am so glad it is cool enough this morning for you to wear that lovely costume.  It is as likely as not that by tomorrow it will be too warm.  All these little things tell, my child, and I am glad to know that even the thermometer is your friend.”

“I had a letter from Miriam yesterday afternoon,” said Dora, “in which she told me that her brother Ralph is engaged to Miss Drane.”

Miss Panney turned around like a weather vane struck by a squall.  She seized the girl’s arm with her bony fingers.

“What!” she exclaimed.

Ordinarily, the pain of the old lady’s grasp would have made Dora wince, but she did not seem to feel it.  Without the slightest sign of emotion in her face, she answered,—­

“It is so.  It happened while I was at Barport.”

“Stop!” cried Miss Panney, in a voice that made the driver pull up his horses with a jerk.  In a moment she had stepped from the low carriage to the ground, and with quick strides was walking back to the Witton house.  Dora turned in the seat, looked after her, and laughed.  It was a sudden, bitter laugh, which the circumstances made derisive.