" she said. "I think suburbs are horrible; they are
neither one thing nor the other. We had a lawn and shade trees, and a
croquet ground, and a tennis court, but we bought our milk and eggs and
most of our vegetables. There isn't any real country in all that, you
know. I was never in a haymow in my life. All I know about that sort of
thing is from books."

When, with many thanks for the courtesies offered them, Mrs. Drane and
her daughter had driven away, Miriam sat by herself on the piazza and
thought. She had a good deal of time, now, to think, for Molly Tooney was
a far more efficient servant than Phoebe had been, and although her
brother gave her as much of his time as he could, she was of necessity
left a good deal to herself.

She began by thinking what an exceedingly gentlemanly man her brother
was; in his ordinary working clothes he had been as much at his ease with
those ladies as though he had been dressed in a city costume, which,
however, would not have been nearly so becoming to him as his loose
flannel shirt and broad straw hat. She then began to regret that her mind
worked so slowly. If it had been quicker to act, she would have asked
that young lady to come some day and go up in the haymow with her. It
would be a positive charity to give a girl with longings, such as she saw
that one had, a chance of knowing what real country life was. It would
be pleasant to show things to a girl who really wanted to know about
them. From this she began to think of Dora Bannister. Dora was a nice
girl, but Miriam could not think of her as one to whom she could show or
tell very much; Dora liked to do the showing and telling herself.

"I truly believe," said Miriam to herself, and a slight flush came on her
face, "that if she could have done it, she would have liked to stay here
a week, and wear the teaberry gown all the time and direct
everything,--although, of course, I would never have allowed that." With
a little contraction of the brows, she went into the hall, where she
heard her brother's step.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE HAVERLEY FINANCES AND MRS. ROBINSON

"It bothers the head off of me," said Molly Tooney to Mike, as she sat
eating her supper in the Cobhurst kitchen, "to try to foind out what thim
two upstairs is loike, anyway, 'specially her. I've been here nigh onto
two weeks, now, and I don't know her no betther than when I fust come.
For the life of me I can't make out whether she's a gal woman or a w