d
after allowing a reasonable time for the strangers to settle down, the
neighbours called.

By and by these calls were returned by Mrs. Shafto in a smart victoria
and a still smarter costume; her husband was merely represented by a
neatly printed card, which bore the name of "Mr. Edward Shafto,
Athenaeum Club." Mr. Edward Shafto was rarely to be met beyond his
grounds and garden, unless driving through the village to Bricklands
railway station, en route for London. He did not sit on the Bench, nor
was he a churchwarden, the usual grounds of meeting. When encountered
he was invariably agreeable and had charming easy manners, but not much
to say for himself, and his acquaintance, like the farmers and the
claret, got "no forrarder." Gradually the painful truth was accepted
that Shafto did not care to know people. He never dined out, he did
not shoot or hunt, but it was mysteriously whispered that "he wrote."
What, no one precisely knew, but one fact was common property: he was
fond of horticulture and the once famous gardens of "Littlecote" had
been delightfully restored.

If Tadpool was held at arm's length by Edward Shafto, the community had
no difficulty in making acquaintance with his consort, a pretty
vivacious lady who accepted all invitations, and herself gave tennis
parties, bridge parties, luncheons and teas. For some time the
neighbourhood was disposed to like her, although perhaps she was not
quite "off the top shelf," a little too demonstrative, loud and
unreserved; then by degrees Mrs. Shafto fell into disfavour; quiet folk
were afraid of her, she enjoyed repeating ill-natured remarks, was
capricious in her likes and dislikes, made a good deal of mischief, and
separated chief friends.

The lady was not disposed to be reticent respecting her family affairs;
there was something satisfactory in this! People learned that her
husband was really a Shafto of Shafton, and also that his elder
brother, who actually reigned in the family place, was "a brute." She
volubly explained that they had deserted the Border and moved south,
partly because "the pater" wished to be within easy reach of London,
his Club and musty old libraries, and also because it was more
convenient for Douglas, who was at Winchester.

Then gradually it came to pass that the village bored the new-comer;
bored her to death. She became restless and quarrelsome, had a
coolness with the vicarage regarding a pew, with Mrs. Tremenheere at