ourteous, but they were glad to have the Yorkshire
Rawdons in our place. And Tyrrel did not like working with the earth; he
loves machinery and electricity."

"To be sure. When a man has got used to delving for gold or silver,
cutting grass and wheat does seem a slow kind of business."

"And he disliked the shut-up feeling the park gave him. He said we were
in the midst of solitude three miles thick. It made him depressed and
lonely."

"That is nonsense. I am sure on the Western plains he had solitude sixty
miles thick--often."

"Very likely, but then he had an horizon, even if it were sixty miles
away. And no matter how far he rode, there was always that line where
earth seemed to rise to heaven. But the park was surrounded by a brick
wall fourteen feet high. It had no horizon. You felt as if you were in
a large, green box--at least Tyrrel did. The wall was covered with roses
and ivy, but still it was a boundary you could not pass, and could not
see over. Don't you understand, Granny, how Tyrrel would feel this?"

"I can't say I do. Why didn't he come with you?"

"He had to go to the Customs about our trunks, and there were other
things. He will see you to-morrow. Then we are going to dine with
father, and if you will join us, we will call at six for you. Do,
Granny."

"Very well, I shall be ready." But after a moment's thought she
continued, "No, I will not go. I am only a mortal woman, and the company
of angels bores me yet."

"Now, Granny, dear."

"I mean what I say. Your father has married such a piece of perfection
that I feel my shortcomings in her presence more than I can bear. But
I'll tell you what, dearie, Tyrrel may come for me Saturday night at
six, and I will have my dinner with you. I want to see the dining-room
of a swell hotel in full dress; and I will wear my violet satin and
white Spanish lace, and look as smart as can be, dear. And Tyrrel may
buy me a bunch of white violets. I am none too old to wear them. Who
knows but I may go to the theater also?"

"Oh, Granny, you are just the dearest young lady I know! Tyrrel will be
as proud as a peacock."

"Well, I am not as young as I might be, but I am a deal younger than I
look. Listen, dearie, I have never FELT old yet! Isn't that a thing to
be grateful for? I don't read much poetry, except it be in the Church
Hymnal, but I cut a verse out of a magazine a year ago which just suits
my idea of life, and, what is still more wonderful, I took the