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Chigwin's words she sat up, and her eyes began to grow bright again. "I think so myself, Mrs. Chigwin. I shall be glad to get back to my own nice quiet home again. As for looking tired, it is only because I have been packing up my things and getting ready to go. Mr. Beadon has written to me to join him in London, and I am going to start this very afternoon."
Bundlecome flattered herself that things were going fairly well with her nephew, and she possessed her soul in patience. Now as Alan sat talking to his aunt in Mrs. Chigwin's best room, looking out upon the garden on Mrs. Harrington's side, he suddenly started, and stopped short in what he was saying. "Why, Aunt Bessy, who on earth is living next door to you?" Mrs.
Chigwin's garden; and, if it had not been for a wealth of holly round the borders of the village green, the whole place would have been destitute of color. But, in the summer, all is color and brightness.
Chigwin, Alan's aunt was happier than she had ever hoped to be again, and the only drawback to her felicity was the thought of her nephew's troubles and solitude. The next cottage to Mrs. Chigwin's was inhabited by old Mrs. Harrington, the grandmother of Lettice's first maid. There had been no love lost between Mrs. Bundlecombe and Mrs. Harrington, when they once lived in the same town.
Chigwin's surprise, when she saw Lettice coming back with the baby in her arms, may well be imagined. But she behaved very kindly: she at once consented to take in Milly for the night and make her comfortable; and, after one keen look at the girl's changed and downcast face, she asked no questions. For Milly was wonderfully changed there was no doubt of that.
So they went out into the garden, and the two ancient foes sniffed and bridled at each other as they approached through the transparent screen of tall yellow chrysanthemums which lined Mrs. Chigwin's side of the wall. "Mrs. Harrington," said the peacemaker, "there is no need for me to introduce you to my old friend, Elizabeth Bundlecombe, who has come to pay me a nice long visit.
Chigwin's door, and, after a short confabulation, dismissed the cabman and went in. At any rate it was something for Birchmead to know that it had a visitor who had come in a Dorminster cab. That was an incident which for these good souls distinguished the day from the one which went before and the one which came after it. It was Lettice Campion who thus stirred the languid pulse of Birchmead.
It was not a cart but a cab, and it stopped at the door. Cabs were not very familiar in Birchmead, and the appearance of this one at Mrs. Chigwin's cottage brought curious eyes to almost every window looking out upon the green. There was not much to reward curiosity only a lady, dressed in a long fur-lined cloak, with a quiet little bonnet, and a traveling-bag in her hand, who knocked at Mrs.
She was still pondering this question on the day after the funeral, when something happened which went far towards removing her hesitation. She was sitting in Mrs. Chigwin's garden, which was warm and dry in the afternoon sun. Mrs. Chigwin was indoors, vigorously "straightening" the house. Milly was sewing a frock for her child, and the child itself was tumbling about on a soft rug at her feet.
And if you write to her, Milly, she'll be pleased, I'm sure." "I will write," said Milly, in rather a shame-faced way. "I was so busy or I'd have written oftener. Good-bye." She looked at them wistfully, as if reluctant to take her leave; and her expression so wrought upon Mrs. Chigwin's feelings that she kissed the girl's cheek affectionately.
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