The following day, Molly carried Sara off to Rose Cottage to make the acquaintance of “the Lavender Lady” and her nephew.

Miss Herrick—­or Miss Lavinia, as she was invariably addressed—­looked exactly as though she had just stepped out of the early part of last century.  She wore a gown of some soft, silky material, sprigged with heliotrope, and round her neck a fichu of cobwebby lace, fastened at the breast with a cameo brooch of old Italian workmanship.  A coquettish little lace cap adorned the silver-grey hair, and the face beneath the cap was just what you would have expected to find it—­soft and very gentle, its porcelain pink and white a little faded, the pretty old eyes a misty, lavender blue.

She was alone when the two girls arrived, and greeted Sara with a humorous little smile.

“How kind of you to come, Miss Tennant!  We’ve been all agog to meet you, Miles and I. In a tiny place like Monkshaven, you see, every one knows every one else’s business, so of course we have been hearing of you constantly.”

“Then you might have come to Sunnyside to investigate me personally,” replied Sara, smiling back.

Miss Lavinia’s face sobered suddenly, a shadow falling across her kind old eyes.

“Miles is—­rather difficult about calling,” she said hesitatingly.  “You will understand—­his lameness makes him a little self-conscious with strangers,” she explained.

Sara looked distressed.

“Oh!  Perhaps it would have been better if I had not come?” she suggested hastily.  “Shall I run away and leave Molly here?”

Miss Lavinia flushed rose-pink.

“My dear, I hope Miles knows how to welcome a guest in his own house as befits a Herrick,” she said, with a delicious little air of old-world dignity.  “Indeed, it is an excellent thing for him to be dragged out of his shell.  Only, please—­will you remember?—­treat him exactly as though he were not lame—­never try to help him in any way.  It is that which hurts him so badly—­when people make allowances for his lameness.  Just ignore it.”

Sara nodded.  She could understand that instinctive man’s pride which recoiled from any tolerant recognition of a physical handicap.

“Was his lameness caused by an accident?” she asked.

“It came through a very splendid deed.”  Little Miss Lavinia’s eyes glowed as she spoke.  “He stopped a pair of runaway carriage-horses.  They had taken fright at a motor-lorry, and, when they bolted, the coachman was thrown from the box, so that it looked as if nothing could save the occupants of the carriage.  Miles flung himself at the horses’ heads, and although, of course, he could not actually stop them single-handed, he so impeded their progress that a second man, who sprang forward to help, was able to bring them to a standstill.”

“How plucky of him!” exclaimed Sara warmly.  “You must be very proud of your nephew, Miss Lavinia!”