right a garden stocked with vegetables and
a tangle of bright-coloured flowers; to the left the stable-yard. This
was the Nag's Head, and in the doorway stood the redoubtable Mrs McNab
herself, staring with steely eyes at the daring feminine intruder.

The one overpowering impression made by Mrs McNab was cleanliness! She
was so obtrusively, aggressively, immaculately clean, that the like of
her had never before dazzled the eyes of the benighted Southern
visitors. Her lilac print gown was glossy from the press of the iron;
the hands folded across the snowy apron were puffed and lined from
recent parboiling; her face shone like a mirror from a generous use of
good yellow soap. White stockings showed above her black felt slippers;
her hair--red streaked with grey--was plastered down on each side of her
head, and, for greater security, tied with a broad black ribbon. A
stiff white collar was fastened by a slab of pebble rimmed in silver,
which proudly imagined itself to be an ornamental brooch. There was not
a single feminine curve in her body; stiff and square she stood, like a
sentinel on guard, her lips pressed into a thin line; in her eyes a
smouldering flame.

Margot took her in, with one swift comprehensive glance, as the driver
reined up his tired horses before the door. A temper; a quick temper, a
temper easily provoked, but a kindly woman nevertheless. No country
bumpkin, but a shrewd, capable business woman, with two light blue eyes
fixed stolidly on the main chance; a woman, moreover, blessed with a
sense of humour; else why those deep lines stretching from nose to chin;
that radiating nest of wrinkles round the eyes?

Margot's courage revived at the sight. She sprang down lightly from her
perch and advanced towards the house, smiling in her most fascinating
manner.

"How do you do, Mrs McNab? We have arrived, you see. So glad to be
here at last!"

The mistress of the inn stared into her face, stolidly unmoved.

"It was two brithers I was expecting. I'm no caring for leddies!"

"You like gentlemen better? Oh, so do I--_Much_!" cried Margot with a
gush. "But they need us to look after them, don't they? My brother is
not at all strong. The drive has been delightful, but rather cold, all
the same. I am afraid he may be chilled." She stretched out a little
ungloved hand, and laid it lightly on the hard red fist. "Feel! We
_should_ love some tea!"

Mrs McNab looked down at the delicate li