ut first upon the yard of her own dwelling, of which,
however, she could get but a restricted glimpse. Still, her gaze took in
the topmost boughs of the ailanthus below her window, and she knew how
early each year the clump of dicentra strung its bending stalk with
hearts of pink.

But of greater interest were the yards beyond. Being for the most part
attached to boarding-houses they were in a state of chronic untidiness
and fluttering, on certain days of the week, with miscellaneous garments
and frayed table-cloths. In spite of this Mrs. Manstey found much to
admire in the long vista which she commanded. Some of the yards were,
indeed, but stony wastes, with grass in the cracks of the pavement and
no shade in spring save that afforded by the intermittent leafage of the
clothes-lines. These yards Mrs. Manstey disapproved of, but the others,
the green ones, she loved. She had grown used to their disorder; the
broken barrels, the empty bottles and paths unswept no longer annoyed
her; hers was the happy faculty of dwelling on the pleasanter side of
the prospect before her.

In the very next enclosure did not a magnolia open its hard white
flowers against the watery blue of April? And was there not, a little
way down the line, a fence foamed over every May be lilac waves of
wistaria? Farther still, a horse-chestnut lifted its candelabra of buff
and pink blossoms above broad fans of foliage; while in the opposite
yard June was sweet with the breath of a neglected syringa, which
persisted in growing in spite of the countless obstacles opposed to its
welfare.

But if nature occupied the front rank in Mrs. Manstey's view, there was
much of a more personal character to interest her in the aspect of the
houses and their inmates. She deeply disapproved of the mustard-colored
curtains which had lately been hung in the doctor's window opposite; but
she glowed with pleasure when the house farther down had its old bricks
washed with a coat of paint. The occupants of the houses did not often
show themselves at the back windows, but the servants were always in
sight. Noisy slatterns, Mrs. Manstey pronounced the greater number;
she knew their ways and hated them. But to the quiet cook in the newly
painted house, whose mistress bullied her, and who secretly fed the
stray cats at nightfall, Mrs. Manstey's warmest sympathies were given.
On one occasion her feelings were racked by the neglect of a housemaid,
who for two days forgot to fee