inable, yourself.'

'So it was, but you'd better call.'

'I'd much rather not.'

Dalmaine looked at her with Olympian surprise.

'But, my dear,' he said with suave firmness, 'I said that you had
better call. The people must not be neglected; they will be useful. Do
you understand me?'

'Yes, love.'

Paula was quiet for a few moments, then talked as brightly as ever....

One day close upon the end of September, Mrs. Ormonde had to pay a
visit to the little village of West Dean, which is some four miles
distant from Eastbourne, inland and westward. Business of a domestic
nature took her thither; she wished to visit a cottage for the purpose
of seeing a girl whom she thought of engaging as a servant. The day was
very beautiful; she asked the Newthorpes to accompany her on the drive.
Mr. Newthorpe preferred to remain at home; Annabel accepted the
invitation.

The road was uphill, until the level of the Downs was reached; then it
went winding along, with fair stretches of scenery on either hand,
between fields fragrant of Autumn, overhead the broad soft purple sky.
First East Dean was passed, a few rustic houses nestling, as the name
implies, in its gentle hollow. After that, another gradual ascent, and
presently the carriage paused at a point of the road immediately above
the village to which they were going.

The desire to stop was simultaneous in Mrs. Ormonde and her companion;
their eyes rested on as sweet a bit of landscape as can be found in
England, one of those scenes which are typical of the Southern
countries. It was a broad valley, at the lowest point of which lay West
Dean. The hamlet consists of very few houses, all so compactly grouped
about the old church that from this distance it seemed as if the hand
could cover them. The roofs were overgrown with lichen, yellow on
slate, red on tiles. In the farmyards were haystacks with yellow
conical coverings of thatch. And around all closed dense masses of
chestnut foliage, the green just touched with gold. The little group of
houses had mellowed with age; their guarded peacefulness was soothing
to the eye and the spirit. Along the stretch of the hollow the land was
parcelled into meadows and tilth of varied hue. Here was a great patch
of warm grey soil, where horses were drawing the harrow; yonder the
same work was being done by sleek black oxen. Where there was pasture,
its chalky-brown colour told of the nature of the earth which produced
it. A vast oblo