lied, grumblingly and indistinctly, that style was
the only test of value, and that the fools who put up that notice could
never do any good to anybody, and then her eyes roved to the path that
ran down the green shoulder of the escarpment on the other side of the
valley's neck. "Ah, here's Mrs. Winter. Ellen, you are going to come in
contact with the social life of Roothing. This is the vicar's wife."

"Is she our sort of pairson?" asked Ellen doubtfully.

"For the purpose of social intercourse we pretend that she is," answered
Marion without enthusiasm.

They met her on the plank bridge that crossed the stream by which the
osier beds were nourished, and Ellen liked her before they had come
within hailing distance because she was such a little nosegay of an old
lady. Though her colours were those of age they were bright as flowers.
Her hair was white, but it shone like travellers' joy, and her peering
old eyes were blue as speedwell, and her shrivelled cheeks were pink as
apple-blossom. She bobbed when she walked like a ripe apple on its stem,
and her voice when she called out to them was such a happy fluting as
might come from some bird with a safe nest. "Why, it's Mrs. Yaverland. I
heard that you'd gone up to town."

"I came back this morning. This is Miss Melville, whom I went to meet.
She is going to marry Richard very soon." Marion did not, Ellen noticed
with exasperation, make any adequate response to this generous little
trill of greeting. The best she seemed able to do was to speak slowly,
as if to disclaim any desire to hurry on.

"Oh, how do you do? I am pleased I met you on the very first day." The
old lady smiled into Ellen's eyes and shook her hand as if she meant to
lay at her disposal all this amiability that had been reared by tranquil
years on the leeward side of life. "This will be a surprise for
Roothing. We all thought Mr. Yaverland would never look at any woman but
his mother. Such a son he is!" Ellen was annoyed that Marion smiled only
vaguely in answer to this mention of her astonishing good fortune in
being Richard's mother. "I hope Mr. Winter will have the pleasure of
marrying you."

"I'm afraid not," said Ellen with concern. "I'm Presbyterian, and
Episcopalianism does not attract me."

"Oh dear! Oh dear! That's a pity," said the old lady, with a pretty
flight of hilarity. "Still, I hope you'll ask us to the wedding. I've
known Richard since he was a week old. Haven't I, Mrs. Yaverland?