An automobile flashed by them, and then another. "There must be a party here to-day, or likely it's visitors dropping in, now it's getting toward tea time. It's all right, ma'm," she added, as Cassandra stirred uneasily. "It must be only visitors, or I would have heard of it. They're keeping open house now, though they don't go anywhere themselves yet. You see it's a year since the deaths, so they could mourn them all at once, and not spin it along. They had to wait a year before Lady Laura's coming out—rightly. Let the ponies walk now, driver. I beg pardon, ma'm." The girl had so taken possession of Cassandra, the baby, and the whole expedition, that she gave the order unthinkingly.
"Yes, let them walk," said Cassandra, and drew a long breath. She heard gay laughter, and caught sight through the trees of light dresses and wide, plumed hats. Some one sat on the terrace at a table whereon was shining silver.
"There, I said so! That's Lady Clara pouring tea. I say, but she's a beauty! Isn't she? No, no. Go to the front, driver. American ladies don't call at the side."
"There's a hautomobile there, ma'm."
"Then wait a moment. Don't be a stupid."
Thus, aided by the innkeeper's clever daughter, Cassandra at last made her entrance properly and was guided to the presence of David's mother, who had not joined her guests, having but just closed an interview with Mr. Stretton. As she