Miss Wilkins was one of the few remaining members of the family from whom the Anstruthers had bought the Westfield estate some few years back. She had been staying in the neighbourhood, and this was probably a farewell visit. “Perhaps you could ask Miss Wilkins to join me here,” said Mrs. Anstruther, and soon Miss Wilkins, a person of mature years, approached.
“Yes, I’m leaving the Ashes to-morrow, and I shall be able to tell my brother how tremendously you have improved the place. Of course he can't help regretting the old house just a little—as I do myself—but the garden is really delightful now.”
“I am so glad you can say so. But you mustn't think we've finished our improvements. Let me show you where I mean to put a rose garden. It's close by here.”
The details of the project were laid before Miss Wilkins at some length; but her thoughts were evidently elsewhere,
“Yes, delightful,” she said at last rather absently. “But do you know, Mrs. An-
