About a week after the events related in the last chapter, on a certain lovely day in June, a hired fly might have been seen ascending the steep avenue to Delaney Manor. The fly had only one occupant—a round, roly-poly sort of little woman. She was dressed in deep mourning, and the windows of the fly being wide open, she constantly poked her head out, now to the right and now to the left, to look anxiously and excitedly around her.
After gazing at the magnificent view, had anyone been there to look, they might have observed her shaking her head with great solemnity. She had round black eyes, and a rather dark-complexioned face, with a good deal of color in her cheeks. She was stoutly built, but the expression on her countenance was undoubtedly cheerful. Nothing signified gloom about her except her heavy mourning. Her eyes, although shrewd and full of common sense, were also kindly; her lips were very firm; there was a matter-of-fact expression about her whole appearance.

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