What she saw was a lady something past forty, a little above the average height, slight and graceful, with masses of dark brown hair coiled beneath a very pretty dark blue velvet toque, a face almost as fresh and fair as a girl’s, large, dark brown expressive eyes, which held a light that in some mysterious manner appealed to Peggy and drew her irresistibly.  They were smiling eyes with a twinkle suggestive of a sense of humor, a sympathetic understanding of the view-point of those of fewer years, which the mouth beneath corroborated, for the lips held a little curve which often betrayed the inward emotions.  Her voice was soft and sweet and its intonation fell soothingly upon Peggy’s sensitive ears.  Taken altogether, her elder guest had already won Peggy’s heart, though she would have found it hard to explain why.

And Polly Howland?

To describe Polly Howland in cold print would be impossible, for Polly was something of a chameleon.  What Peggy saw was a young girl not quite as tall as herself, but slightly heavier and straight and lithe as a willow.  Her fine head was topped with a great wavy mass of the deepest copper-tinted hair, perfectly wonderful hair, which glinted and flashed with every turn of the girl’s head, and rolled back from a broad forehead white and clear as milk.  The eyes beneath the forehead were a perfect cadet blue, with long lashes many shades darker than the hair.  They were big eyes, expressive and constantly changing with Polly’s moods, now flashing, now laughing, again growing dark, deep and tender.  The nose had an independent little tilt, but the mouth was exquisitely faultless and mobile and expressive to a rare degree.  Polly’s eyes and mouth would have attracted attention anywhere.

Of course Peggy did not take quite this analytical view of either of her guests, though in a vague way she felt it all and an odd sense of happiness filled her soul which she would have found it hard to explain.

She led the way through the spacious hall and dining-room to the broad piazza from which the view was simply entrancing, and said: 

“Won’t you and Miss Howland be seated, Mrs. Harold; I am sure you must be hungry after your ride through this October air.  We will have some refreshments and then go out to the paddock to see Silver Star.”

Touching a little silver bell, which was promptly answered by Jerome, she ordered: 

“Something extra nice for my guests, Jerome, and please send word to Shelby that we will be out to the paddock in half an hour.”

“Yes, missie, lamb, I gwine bring yo’ a dish fitten f o’ a queen.”

Mrs. Harold dropped into one of the big East India porch chairs, saying: 

“This is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  Polly, dear, look at the wonderful reds of those wings contrasted with the foliage back of them.  Why have we never known of Severndale?  Have you lived here long, Miss Stewart?”