the little shopwoman, shrugging her shoulders.  Still the Farrells were not unpopular.  Sir William had a pleasant slow way of talking, especially to the small folk; and he had just done something very generous in giving up his house—­the whole of his house—­somewhere Cockermouth way, to the War Office, as a hospital.  As for his sister, she seemed to like driving convalescent officers about, and throwing away money on her clothes.  There was no sign of ‘war economy’ about Miss Farrell.

Here, however, the shopwoman’s stream of gossip was arrested by the arrival of a new customer.  Bridget was not sorry.  She had not been at all interested in the Farrells’ idiosyncrasies; and she only watched their preparations for departure now, for lack of something to do.  The chauffeur was waiting beside the car, and Miss Farrell got in first, taking the front seat.  Then Sir William, who had been loitering on the hill, hurried down to give a helping hand to the young officer, who was evidently only in the early stages of convalescence.  After settling his guest comfortably, he turned to speak to his chauffeur, apparently about their road home, as he took a map out of his pocket.

At this moment, a clatter of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of a coach were heard.  Round the corner, swung the Windermere evening coach in fine style, and drew up at the door of Mrs. Weston’s lodgings, a little ahead of the car.

‘There they are!’ said Miss Cookson, excited in spite of herself.  ’Well, I needn’t go down.  George will bring in the luggage.’

A young man and a young lady got up from their seats.  A ladder was brought for the lady to descend.  But just as she was about to step on it, a fidgeting horse in front made a movement, the ladder slipped, and the lady was only just in time to withdraw her foot and save herself.

Sir William Farrell, who had seen the little incident, ran forward, while the man who had been placing the ladder went to the horse, which was capering and trying to rear in his eagerness to be off.

Sir William raised the ladder, and set it firmly against the coach.

‘I think you might risk it now,’ he said, raising his eyes pleasantly to the young person above him.

‘Thank you,’ said a shy voice.  Mrs. Sarratt turned round and descended.  Meanwhile the man holding the ladder saw an officer in khaki standing on the top of the coach, and heard him address a word of laughing encouragement to the lady.  And no sooner had her feet touched the ground than he was at her side in a trice.

‘Thank you, Sir!’ he said, saluting.  ’My wife was very nearly thrown off.  That horse has been giving trouble all the way.’

‘Must be content with what you can get, in war-time!’ said the other smiling, as he raised his hat to the young woman he had befriended, whom he now saw plainly.  ’And there are so few visitors at present in these parts that what horses there are don’t get enough to do.’