Macon's carriage, riding home
with her, to the astonishment of the coachman, who had been preparing
his mind for a long, sleepy afternoon on the box, while his mistress
consulted her list, and made her formal visits. The fact is, she had
forgotten all about them; just now the most interesting thing in her
rather monotonous life was Sara and those trousers. An acquaintance
begun in this manner could never be quite formal again. Mrs. Macon was
warm-hearted, and often-times weary of doing nothing in her great
silent, childless house. She adopted Sara and her little brood from that
moment, and to be adopted by Marion Macon was to fall into good and
gracious hands.
She led Sara, now, straight to the sewing-room, in which was the
machine, throwing wide the blinds of the broad window before which it
was placed.
"Did you ever use one?" she asked anxiously, as she removed the cover.
"Yes, once or twice. Miss Plunkett had one."
"Miss Plunkett; that's a name I know. I have heard my mother mention a
Captain Plunkett she knew as a girl; they were a good family, the
Plunketts. Then you know them?"
Sara spoke of the life-long friendship between that family and her own,
but in so modest a way that the lady's respect for her increased with
every word; but both were too intent on business to give much time to
genealogy.
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