ore tea."

Upon this idea the two girls set out walking as if for a race, which did
them all the good in the world, quickening the blood in their veins,
sending the colour to their cheeks, and dispersing all the cobwebs from
their minds, since they soon got into the spirit of the race, and
pursued it with eagerness, with little outbursts of laughter, and
breathless adjurations to each other to keep within the proper pace, and
not to run. It was not a very inviting road along which they took their
walk. Beyond St. Roque the land was divided into allotments for the
working people, not very tidily kept, and rough with cut cabbages,
plants, and dug-up potatoes. Beyond this lay a great turnip-field,
somewhat rank in smell, and the east wind swept chill along the open
road, which was not sheltered by a single tree, so that the attractions
of the way soon palled upon pedestrians. Looking back to Grange Lane,
the snug and sheltered look of that genteel adjunct to the town was
comforting to behold. Even Grange Lane was not gay; a line of garden
walls, however they may shelter and comfort the gardens within, are not
lovely without; but yet the trees, though leafless, waved over the red
lines of brick, and the big laurels hung out bushes of dark verdure and
long floating sprays of ivy.

"Let's turn back; perhaps she may not be at the window," cried Ursula.
"It is so dull here."

Janey stopped short in the heat of the walk, objecting for the moment.

"I wish you had not gone to London. You never used to care for the
streets and the shops; now a regular good walk is too much for you,"
cried Janey.

"With a turnip-field on one side and a potato-field on the other!" said
Ursula, in high disdain.

"I tell you what!" cried Janey. "I don't think I like you since you came
back. The Dorsets are fine people, and we are not fine. There are no
grand parties, nor theatres, nor balls at Carlingford. When we go out
here, we go to walk, not to see things, as you have been used to doing.
I don't know what you mean by it; nineteen years with us, and one
fortnight with them! and the fortnight counts for more than all the
years!"

Janey was not in the habit of restraining her voice any more than
anything else about her, and she spoke this out with loud school-girl
tones, reckless who might hear her. In most cases she might have done
this with the utmost impunity, and how was she to know, as she said to
her sister afterwards, in self-defence,