Watersprings

haste for Dr. Grierson." The Vicar was evidently in the highest spirits, like a general on the eve of a great battle. "There isn't a moment to be lost," he continued, his eye blazing with energy

thing I enjoy-of course it is very sad-but it is a tussle with death. I know a good deal about medicine, and Grierson has more than once complimented me on my diagnosis-he said it was masterly-forgive a touch of vanity! But you mustn

e, papa?" said Maud.

ives-just to ward off the ministrations of the relatives. There she must lie-I feel no

such a nice old woman; but papa will do everything that can be done for her; he really knows all about it, and he is splendid in illness-he never loses his hea

, "I should like that very much. I dares

ith what you were saying? I know your father has told you about my aunt's plan. I can't realise it yet; but I want to feel at home here now-indeed I do feel that already-and I like to know how things stand. We are all relations together, and I must try to make up

elation; as if you had always been here, indeed; but I must not talk too much about myself-I do chatter very freely

I don't mind who knows about my own concerns, if he is sufficiently interested. I will tell you anything you like about myself, because I should like you to realise how I live. In fact, I shall want you all to come and see me at Cambridge; and then you will be able to understand how we live there, while I shall know what is going on her

me. He gets to know so many new people, and he doesn't like explaining; and then his mind seems full of new ideas. I suppose it is bound to happen; and of course I have very little to do here; papa likes doing everything, and doing it in his own way. He can't bear to let anything out of his hands; so I just go about and talk to the people. But I am not a very contented person. I want something, I think, and I don't know

quiet disappears. It's a great mercy to have things to do, whether one likes it or not. Work is an odd thing! There is hardly a morning at Cambridge when, if someone came to me and offered me the choice of doing my ordinary work or doing nothing for a day, I shouldn't choose to do nothing. And ye

papa's taste for occupation, without his energy. I wish

y aunt say?"

have to learn to take things as they come. She knows somehow how to do

try to write?

wed it to Cousin Anne, and she said it was very nice; and when I showed it to Jack, and

ld one try to write improbable stories, even NICE stories, when the thing itself is so interesting? One doesn't understand these country people. They have an idea of life as definite as a dog or a cat, and it is not in the least like ours. Why not take a family here; describe their house and possessions, what they look like, what they do, what their history has been, and then describe some talk

ll begin at once. And even if nothing comes of it, it will be n

exactly what I want. Do begin at once, and let me ha

uld see right down into Windlow Malzoy, lying like a map beneath them; the top of the Church tower, its leaden roof, the roofs of the Vicarage, the little straggling street among its orchards and gardens; farther off, up the valley, they could see the Manor in its gardens; beyond the opposite ridge, a far-off vi

o have him dug up; but I don't want to disturb him! He must have had a reason for being buried here, and I suppose there were people who missed him, and were sorr

dies, would one like to think of them as being made into songs for other people to enjoy? I suppose we ought to be glad of it; but there does not seem an

air, as sweet as honey. Howard held up his hand

is in this quarter. I like to hear them-they have always been to me a sort of omen of

y themselves; and if they will bring me greater h

en Maud pointed out some neighbouring villages. "All this," she said

shall not be distu

laid out like a map beneath one. It seems quite a different place! As if somet

by which no one ever passed out or in, barred windows giving upon dark courts, out of which no one ever seemed to look. But now that I know them all from the inside, they seem commonplace enough. The hidden garden is a place where Dons smoke and play bowls; the barred window i

g seems to be commonplace to her, and she puts back the mystery and

man!" said Howard; "bu

u all this time-wouldn't you like to go and look for

for Jack to-day; he has quite enough of my company. I want your compa

e about her?" said Maud with a smile;

said Howard. "At present I feel

nd disentangle all our little puzzles as you have done. I thought I should be terrified of

re not very much like Jack! Show me Mrs. Darby's

dogcart. I am afraid I had not been thinking about her; but I do hope it's all right. I think she will

"I do; but it doesn'

Maud said that she must return for tea. "P

ated an uncle or an elder brother, was at once delightful and disconcerting. The day began to decline as they walked, and the light faded to a sombre bleakness. Howard went back to the Vicarage with her, and, at her urgent request, went in to tea. They found the Vicar and Dr. Grierson already established. Mrs. Darby was quite comfortable, and no danger was apprehended. The Vicar's diagnosis had been right, and his precautions perfect. "I could not have done better myself!" said Dr. Grierson, a kindly, bluff Scotchman. Howard became aware that the Vicar must have told the Doctor the news about his inheritance, and was subtly flattered at being treated by him with the empressement reserved for squires. Jack came in-he had been shooting all afternoon-and told Howard he was improving. "I shall catch you up," he said. He seem

ith my aunt," said How

very feminine view! Now in the interests of ethnology we ought to

he said good-bye to Maud, contrived to add, "Now you must tell me to-morrow that you have made a begi

and unpractical. You seem to me to be very busy, and yet to know where to stop. Of course we can't make other people a present of experience; they have to spin their own webs; but I think one can do a certain amount in seeing that they have experience. It would not suit me; my strength is to sit still, as the Bible says. But in a place like this with Frank whipping his tops-he whips them, while you just twirl them-someone is wanted who will listen to people, and see that they are left alone. To leave people alone at the right minute is a very great necessity. Don't you know those gardens that look as if they were always being fussed and slashed and cut about? There's no sense of life in them. One has to slash sometimes, and then leave it. I believe in growth even more than in organisation. Still, I don't