possibly find work in a parish some
miles from Mellor. She must go and send him off there.

When Mrs. Hurd opened the door to her, Marcella was astonished to
perceive behind her the forms of several other persons filling up the
narrow space of the usually solitary cottage--in fact, a tea-party.

"Oh, come in, miss," said Mrs. Hurd, with some embarrassment, as though
it occurred to her that her visitor might legitimately wonder to find a
person of her penury entertaining company. Then, lowering her voice,
she hurriedly explained: "There's Mrs. Brunt come in this afternoon to
help me wi' the washin' while I finished my score of plait for the woman
who takes 'em into town to-morrow. And there's old Patton an' his
wife--you know 'em, miss?--them as lives in the parish houses top o' the
common. He's walked out a few steps to-day. It's not often he's able,
and when I see him through the door I said to 'em, 'if you'll come in
an' take a cheer, I dessay them tea-leaves 'ull stan' another wettin'. I
haven't got nothink else.' And there's Mrs. Jellison, she came in along
o' the Pattons. You can't say her no, she's a queer one. Do you know
her, miss?"

"Oh, bless yer, yes, yes. She knows me!" said a high, jocular voice,
making Mrs. Hurd start; "she couldn't be long hereabouts without makkin'
eeaste to know me. You coom in, miss. We're not afraid o' you--Lor'
bless you!"

Mrs. Hurd stood aside for her visitor to pass in, looking round her the
while, in some perplexity, to see whether there was a spare chair and
room to place it. She was a delicate, willowy woman, still young in
figure, with a fresh colour, belied by the grey circles under the eyes
and the pinched sharpness of the features. The upper lip, which was
pretty and childish, was raised a little over the teeth; the whole
expression of the slightly open mouth was unusually soft and sensitive.
On the whole, Minta Hurd was liked in the village, though she was
thought a trifle "fine." The whole family, indeed, "kept theirsels to
theirsels," and to find Mrs. Hurd with company was unusual. Her name,
of course, was short for Araminta.

Marcella laughed as she caught Mrs. Jellison's remarks, and made her way
in, delighted. For the present, these village people affected her like
figures in poetry or drama. She saw them with the eye of the imagination
through a medium provided by Socialist discussion, or by certain phases
of modern art; and the little scene of Mrs. Hurd's tea-p