Now, a desolation had invaded the spot.  In place of summer gaiety there was only dreariness.  The flowers had gone; a raw wind soughed along the river’s banks; instead of the scent of the hay there was only the smell of damp earth, as if to proclaim to the girl that such desolation was the certain heritage of all living things.

Mavis could not get rid of the impression that the contrast between the place as she remembered it and as it was now resembled her own life.  She made her way, with all dispatch, to the station.  Here she learned that Mrs Farthing could not take her in until the following day, as her present “visitors” were not leaving till then.  Mavis pricked up her ears at the mention of visitors; she did not think such polite euphemisms had penetrated so far afield.

She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to know where she was going to spend the night.  Mr Medlicott solved her perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved to be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned curtsey directly she set eyes on the girl.  The station-master’s wife showed Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the use of it for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake by the passing and shunting of trains.  Mavis jumped at the offer, whereat Mrs Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, homely tea, a meal which was often interrupted by Mr Medlicott getting up to attend to his duties upon the platform.  When tea was over, there was yet another hour’s daylight.  Mrs Medlicott suggested to Mavis that it might be as well for her to call on Mrs Farthing, to see if she liked her; she mentioned that Mr Farthing was a very nice man, but that his wife was not a person everyone could get on with.

Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after some inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world cottage, which was situated next door to a farm.

The girl’s knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to mention who had recommended her to come.

“Please to come inside,” said Mrs. Farthing.

Mavis followed the woman, who was little and sharp-eyed, into a clean, orderly living room, where she was asked to take a seat.  She was surprised to see her prospective landlady also sit, for all the world as if she were entertaining a guest.

“Did you say you were taking up church work?” asked Mrs Farthing.

“No, I did not.”

“I thought you did,” said Mrs Farthing, as her face fell.

“You see, my father was a sea captain, so I have to be so careful to whom I let my rooms.”

“If I thought they weren’t respectable, I shouldn’t have come here,” retorted Mavis.

Mrs Farthing winced, but recovered herself.

“Since I have been resident at Pennington Cottage, one colonel, three doctors, two lawyers, seven reverends, and one banker have visited here.”