ou of his size, for fear you
should receive a shock. The cottage just holds him when he sits down,
and his mother's one anxiety is that he should not bring down the kitchen
ceiling more than once a year, as it hurts his head and comes expensive;
he has a black collie they call Tinker, the cleverest dog in the place,
so Nathaniel says; and these three constitute the household of the White
Cottage.'

I was charmed with Uncle Max's account; the cottage seemed cosy and
homelike. I knew I could trust his opinion; he was a good judge of
character, and was seldom wrong in his estimate of a man, woman, or
child, and he would be especially careful to intrust me to a thoroughly
reliable person. I begged him therefore to close with Mrs. Barton at
once; she asked a very moderate price for her rooms, and I could have
afforded higher terms. It would not take me long to pack my books and
other treasures: some of them I should be obliged to leave behind, but
I must take all Charlie's books and my own, and my favourite pictures and
bits of china, and a store of fine linen for my own use. I was somewhat
demoralised by the luxury at Hyde Park Gate, and liked to make myself
comfortable after my own way. Poor Charlie used to laugh at me and say
I should be an old maid, and, as I considered this fact inevitable, I
took his teasing in good part.

I told Uncle Max that I thought I could be ready in another week, and
that I saw no good in delay. He assented to this, and was kind enough
to add that the sooner I came the better. I was a little dismayed to
find that he had not considered himself bound to keep my counsel; he had
talked about my plan to his curate, Mr. Tudor, and I gathered from his
manner, for he refused to tell me any more, that he had discussed it
with another person.

This was too bad, but I would not let him see that this vexed me. I
wanted to settle in and begin my work quietly before the neighbourhood
knew of my existence; but if Uncle Max published my intended arrival in
every house he visited, I felt I could not even worship in comfort, for
fear the congregation should be eying me suspiciously.

I thought it better to change the subject: so I began to question him
about Mr. Tudor and Mrs. Drabble, the latter being the ruling power at
the vicarage; and he fell upon the bait and swallowed it eagerly, so my
vexation passed unnoticed.

Uncle Max did not live quite alone. His house was large, far too large
for an unmarried