udio in town, was content with rather a primitive state of
things in his country cottage.

It was sufficiently large, though part of it was partitioned off as a
bedroom; the partition, for the sake of airiness, was only eight or
nine feet high, and the furniture was of the plainest description; a
white Indian matting covered the floor, and there were pink Madras
curtains at the window. As Elizabeth pointed out, it could not have
been closed for months, for actually beautiful clusters of roses had
not only festooned the casement, but had found their way into the room,
and hung their sweet heads over the sill, as though they were trying to
reach the floor.

Malcolm declared himself quite enchanted; he had never seen any place
he liked better. There was room for his big bath--his tub he called it
mentally--and a comfortable chair or two, and when he had concluded
these little arrangements to his own satisfaction, he joined Elizabeth,
who was making friends with a great sandy cat, who rejoiced in the
doubtful name of Old Tom.

"I am glad you are so pleased," she said in quite an interested tone,
as they walked down the road again. "I hardly expected that you would
be so easily satisfied. Cedric calls the Crow's Nest a wretched little
hole."

"Oh, he is so young, Miss Templeton--he is at the age when one has
great expectations; we learn to moderate and alter our ideas as we grow
older. Don't you remember Carmen Sylva's charming description of youth
and age? I like it so much."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I am afraid I do not read enough," she said
rather sadly. But he looked at her very kindly.

"She is one of the wisest and wittiest of women," he returned; "and she
is your namesake too."

"Oh yes, I know that."

"When I go back to town may I send you her little book--"Thoughts of a
Queen" it is called?"

Elizabeth, after a moment's hesitation, thanked him and said she would
be glad to see it.

"It is well worth your perusal," he went on, too much engrossed by his
subject to notice her hesitating manner. "But I have not given you her
definition of youth."

"'In youth,' she remarks, 'one is a mediaeval castle, with hidden
nooks, secret chambers, mysterious galleries, trenches, and ramparts;
one becomes afterwards a modern mansion, rich, morocco-leathered,
elegant, stylish, and only open to the select; and ultimately a great
hall open to the whole world, a market, a museum, or a cathedral.'"

"I think I know w