As the wagon moved on Miss Port heaved a sigh.  Fearful that she might see the captain somewhere, she had not even allowed herself to survey the premises in order to catch a glimpse of the shipmate’s son.  This was a rare piece of self-denial in Maria, but she could do that sort of thing on occasion.

When the butcher’s wagon neared the Broadstone house Miss Port promptly got down, and Mr. Morris went to the kitchen regions by himself.  She never allowed herself to enter a house by the back or side door, so now she went to the front, where, disappointed at not seeing any of the family although she had made good use of her eyes, she was obliged to ask a servant to conduct her to Mrs. Blynn.  Before she had had time to calculate the cost of the rug in the hall, or to determine whether the walls were calcimined or merely whitewashed, she found herself with that good lady.

Miss Port’s business with Mrs. Blynn indicated a peculiar intelligence on the part of the visitor.  It was based upon very little; it had not much to do with anything; it amounted to almost nothing; and yet it appeared to contain certain elements of importance which made Mrs. Blynn give it her serious consideration.

After she had talked and peered about as long as she thought was necessary, Maria said she was afraid Mr. Morris would be waiting for her, and quickly took her leave, begging Mrs. Blynn not to trouble herself to accompany her to the door.  When she left the house Maria did not seek the butcher’s wagon, but started out on a little tour of observation through the grounds.  She was quite sure Mr. Morris was waiting for her, but for this she did care a snap of her finger; he would not dare to go and leave her.  Presently she perceived a young gentleman approaching her, and she recognized him instantly—­it was the goggle-eyed man who had been described to her.  Stepping quickly toward Mr. Locker, she asked him if he could tell her where she could find Miss Asher; she had been told she was in the grounds.

The young man goggled his eye a little more than usual.  “Do you know her?” said he.

“Oh, yes,” replied Maria; “I met her at the house of her uncle, Captain Asher.”

“And, knowing her, you want to see her”

Astonished, Miss Port replied, “Of course.”

“Very well, then,” said he; “beyond that clump of bushes is a seat.  She sits thereon.  Accept my condolences.”

“I will remember every word of that,” said Miss Port to herself, “but I haven’t time to think of it now.  He’s just ravin’.”

Olive had just had an interview with Mr. Locker which, in her eyes, had been entirely too protracted, and she had sent him away.  He had just made her an offer of marriage, but she had refused even to consider it, assuring him that her mind was occupied with other things.  She was busy thinking of those other things when she heard footsteps near her.

“How do you do” said Miss Port, extending her hand.