On our journey to Deephaven we left the railway twelve miles from that place, and took passage in a stage-coach. There was only one passenger beside ourselves. She was a very large, thin, weather-beaten woman, and looked so tired and lonesome and good-natured, that I could not help saying it was very dusty; and she was apparently delighted to answer that she should think everybody was sweeping, and she always felt, after being in the cars a while, as if she had been taken all to pieces and left in the different places. And this was the beginning of our friendship with Mrs. Kew.
After this conversation we looked industriously out of the window into the pastures and pine-woods. I had given up my seat to her, for I do not mind riding backward in the least, and you would have thought I had done her the greatest favor of her life. I think she was the most grateful of women, and I was often reminded of a remark one of my friends once made about some one: “If you give Bessie a half-sheet of letter-paper, she behaves to you as if it were the most exquisite of presents!” Kate and I had some fruit left in our lunch-basket, and divided it with Mrs. Kew, but after the first mouthful we looked at each other in dismay. “Lemons with oranges’ clothes on, aren’t they?” said she, as Kate threw hers out of the window, and mine went after it for company; and after this we began to be very friendly indeed. We both liked the odd woman, there was something so straightforward and kindly about her.
“Are you going to Deephaven, dear?” she asked me, and then: “I wonder if you are going to stay long? All summer? Well, that’s clever! I do hope you will come out to the Light to see me; young folks ’most always like my place. Most likely your friends will fetch you.”
“Do you know the Brandon house?” asked Kate.