sed smell in them. Even the
little three-cornered drawing-room with the bay-window overlooking the
village green and the elm-tree did not please her. The solitary old
man in a smock-frock, with a red handkerchief knotted loosely round his
lean old throat, might be a picturesque object in the distance, but on
wet days she fancied even the green might be a dreary outlook. As they
sat over their tea in the little inn parlour she gave her opinion in
her usual downright fashion.

"Dear Greta," she said, "I do not advise your taking this step. Ivy
Dene Lodge would want a good deal of money spent on it to make it
decently habitable. And even if it were painted and papered from
garret to basement it would never be a really comfortable house. All
those small rooms opening into each other are so inconvenient. And
then it is damp. I am sure Marcus would say so; and then I am certain
you would be moped to death. There are no young people at the Grange.
Only that stout, middle-aged couple we met in the pony-carriage, and
the vicar is old and a widower. I do think it would be terribly dull
for you." And Greta owned rather regretfully that her friend was right.

Her poor little air-castles had crumbled into nothingness. Her
longings for the sweet country air and rustic quiet were doomed to be
frustrated. In her heart she felt that Olivia was wise. A solitary
life at Ivy Dene would hardly content her. And after all was she so
ready to leave Brompton? She had found friends there--real
friends--the Luttrells and Mrs. Broderick and the Gaythornes, and
though she still felt terribly lonely in her big house, perhaps it
would be better for her to wait a little.

"I suppose I should feel rather like a ghost if I tried to settle
here," she said, presently. "I do not think so badly of poor little
Ivy Dene as you do. It would be quite large enough for me, but somehow
Medhurst itself seems changed."

After tea they walked to the Grange, and asked leave to go into the
garden, and Greta showed her friend the lime walk, and the orchard and
the big elm-tree where they had swung their hammock.

"I think it looks just as lovely as it did in the old days," she said
as they paced down the smooth velvety lawn. And even Olivia allowed
that the Grange had not disappointed her. It was a fine,
picturesque-looking house, and as they passed to the front, she had a
glimpse of a handsome hall panelled in oak. "If you could only live at