ents.

On this morning of the letter's arrival he watched her sobbing and
clutching the tablecloth, and reflected. He walked up and down and
pondered. There were a lot of things to be thought over.

"We may as well accept the invitation at once," he said. "Grovel as much
as you choose. The more the better. They'll like it."

Chapter Eleven

The Osborns arrived at The Kennel Farm on a lovely rainy morning. The
green of the fields and trees and hedges was sweetly drenched, and the
flowers held drops which sparkled when the fitful sun broke forth and
searched for the hidden light in them. A Palstrey carriage comfortably
met them and took them to their destination.

As they turned into the lane, Osborn looked out at the red gables and
chimneys showing themselves among the trees.

"It's the old place I looked at," he said, "and a jolly old place it
is."

Hester was drinking in the pure sweetness of the fresh air and filling
her soul with the beauty of such things as she had never seen before. In
London she had grown hopeless and sick of spirit. The lodgings in Duke
Street, the perpetual morning haddock and questionable eggs and unpaid
bills, had been evil things for her. She had reached a point at which
she had felt she could bear them no longer. Here, at all events, there
would be green trees and clear air, and no landlady. With no rent to
pay, there would be freedom from one torment at least.

She had not expected much more than this freedom, however. It had seemed
highly probable that there might be discomforts in an ancient farmhouse
of the kind likely to be lent to impecunious relatives.

But before they crossed the threshold it was plain to her that, for some
reason, they had been given more. The old garden had been put in
order--a picturesque and sweet disorderly order, which had allowed
creepers to luxuriate and toss, and flowers to spring out of crannies,
and clumps of things to mass themselves without restraint.

The girl's wretched heart lifted itself as they drove up to the
venerable brick porch which had somewhat the air of a little church
vestibule. Through the opened door she saw a quaint comfort she had not
dreamed of. She had not the knowledge of things which would have told
her what wonders Emily had done with the place, but she could see that
its quaint furnishings were oddly beautiful in their harmony. The heavy
chairs and benches and settles seemed to have been part of centuries of
fa