At the first sound of the pump-handle I heard a deep bark in the direction of the barn, and then furiously around the corner came Lord Edward. Before I had filled the cup he was bounding about me. I believe the glad welcome of the dog did more to revive Euphemia than the water. He was delighted to see us, and in a moment up came Pomona, running from the barn. Her face was radiant, too. We felt relieved. Here were two friends who looked as if they were neither sold nor ruined.
Pomona quickly saw that we were ill at ease, and before I could put a question to her she divined the cause. Her countenance fell.
"You know," said she, "you said you wasn't comin' till to-morrow. If you only had come then—I was goin' to have everything just exactly right—an' now you had to climb in—"
And the poor girl looked as if she might cry, which would have been a wonderful thing for Pomona to do.
"Tell me one thing," said I. "What about—those taxes?"
"Oh, that's all right," she cried. "Don't think another minute about that. I'll tell you all about it soon. But come in first, and I'll get you some lunch in a minute."
We were somewhat relieved by Pomona's statement that it was "all right" in regard to the tax-poster, but we were very anxious to know all about the matter. Pomona, however, gave us little chance to ask her any questions. As soon as she had made ready our lunch, she asked us, as a particular favour, to give her three-quarters of an hour to herself, and then, said she, "I'll have everything looking just as if it was to-morrow."
We respected her feelings, for, of course, it was a
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