garden of stately walks and a
well-proportioned library of books he could stay in contented retreat.
They promised him, too, that beyond the tallest cedar on the lawn a
gazebo should command the widest, the greenest expanse of England ever
beheld.

"It would so add to our reputation in the county of Hunts," said Stella,
"if you were near by. We should feel so utterly Augustan. And of course
you'd ride a nag. I'm not sure really that you wouldn't have to wear
knee-breeches. I declare, Michael, that the very idea makes me feel like
Jane Austen, or do I mean Doctor Johnson?"

"I should make up your mind which," Michael advised.

"But you know what I mean," she persisted. "The doctor's wife would
come in to tea and tell us that her husband had dug up a mummy or
whatever it was the Romans left about. And I should say, 'We must ask my
brother about it. My brother, my dear Mrs. Jumble, will be sure to know.
My brother knows everything.' And she would agree with a pursed-up
mouth. 'Oh, pray do, my dear Mrs. Prescott-Merivale. Everyone says your
brother is a great scholar. It's such a pleasure to have him at the
Lodge. So very distinguished, is it not?'"

"If you're supposed to be imitating Jane Austen, I may as well tell you
at once that it's not a bit like it."

"But I think you ought to come and live near us," Alan solemnly put in.

"Of course, my dear, he's coming," Stella declared.

"Of course I'm not," Michael contradicted. But he was very glad they
wanted him; and then he thought with a pang how little they would want
him with Lily in that well-proportioned library. How little Lily would
enjoy the fat and placid Huntingdon meadows. How little, too, she would
care to see the blackbird swagger with twinkling rump by the shrubbery's
edge or hear him scatter the leaves in shrill affright. In the quick
vision that came to him of a sleek lawn possessed by birds, Michael
experienced his first qualm about the wisdom of what he intended to do.

"And how about Michael's wife?" Alan asked.

Michael looked quite startled by a query so coincident with his own.

"Oh, of course we shall find someone quite perfect for him," Stella
confidently prophesied.

"No, really," said Michael to hide his embarrassment. "I object.
Matchmaking ought not to begin during an engagement."

Stella paid no heed to the protest, and she began to describe a
lady-love who should well become the surroundings in which she intended
to place him.