lland?" said the pleasant voice of
Miss Allan, who was searching for the thick pages of _The_ _Times_ among
a litter of thin foreign sheets.

"I always envy any one who lives in such an excessively flat country,"
she remarked.

"How very strange!" said Mrs. Elliot. "I find a flat country so
depressing."

"I'm afraid you can't be very happy here then, Miss Allan," said Susan.

"On the contrary," said Miss Allan, "I am exceedingly fond of
mountains." Perceiving _The_ _Times_ at some distance, she moved off to
secure it.

"Well, I must find my husband," said Mrs. Elliot, fidgeting away.

"And I must go to my aunt," said Miss Warrington, and taking up the
duties of the day they moved away.

Whether the flimsiness of foreign sheets and the coarseness of their
type is any proof of frivolity and ignorance, there is no doubt that
English people scarce consider news read there as news, any more than a
programme bought from a man in the street inspires confidence in what it
says. A very respectable elderly pair, having inspected the long tables
of newspapers, did not think it worth their while to read more than the
headlines.

"The debate on the fifteenth should have reached us by now," Mrs.
Thornbury murmured. Mr. Thornbury, who was beautifully clean and had
red rubbed into his handsome worn face like traces of paint on a
weather-beaten wooden figure, looked over his glasses and saw that Miss
Allan had _The_ _Times_.

The couple therefore sat themselves down in arm-chairs and waited.

"Ah, there's Mr. Hewet," said Mrs. Thornbury. "Mr. Hewet," she
continued, "do come and sit by us. I was telling my husband how much you
reminded me of a dear old friend of mine--Mary Umpleby. She was a most
delightful woman, I assure you. She grew roses. We used to stay with her
in the old days."

"No young man likes to have it said that he resembles an elderly
spinster," said Mr. Thornbury.

"On the contrary," said Mr. Hewet, "I always think it a compliment
to remind people of some one else. But Miss Umpleby--why did she grow
roses?"

"Ah, poor thing," said Mrs. Thornbury, "that's a long story. She had
gone through dreadful sorrows. At one time I think she would have lost
her senses if it hadn't been for her garden. The soil was very much
against her--a blessing in disguise; she had to be up at dawn--out
in all weathers. And then there are creatures that eat roses. But she
triumphed. She always did. She was a brave soul." She sig