ing, Mr. Courtier."

Courtier gravely answered

"If the gods give me that dream----"

From the garden door Barbara turned her head, smiled, and passed
through.

Lady Casterley, in the company of little Ann, who had perceived that it
was novel to be in the garden at this hour, had been scrutinizing some
newly founded colonies of a flower with which she was not familiar. On
seeing her granddaughter approach, she said at once:

"What is this thing?"

"Nemesia."

"Never heard of it."

"It's rather the fashion, Granny."

"Nemesia?" repeated Lady Casterley. "What has Nemesis to do with
flowers? I have no patience with gardeners, and these idiotic names.
Where is your hat? I like that duck's egg colour in your frock. There's
a button undone." And reaching up her little spidery hand, wonderfully
steady considering its age, she buttoned the top button but one of
Barbara's bodice.

"You look very blooming, my dear," she said. "How far is it to this
woman's cottage? We'll go there now."

"She wouldn't be up."

Lady Casterley's eyes gleamed maliciously.

"You tell me she's so nice," she said. "No nice unencumbered woman lies
in bed after half-past seven. Which is the very shortest way? No, Ann,
we can't take you."

Little Ann, after regarding her great-grandmother rather too intently,
replied:

"Well, I can't come, you see, because I've got to go."

"Very well," said Lady Casterley, "then trot along."

Little Ann, tightening her lips, walked to the next colony of Nemesia,
and bent over the colonists with concentration, showing clearly that she
had found something more interesting than had yet been encountered.

"Ha!" said Lady Casterley, and led on at her brisk pace towards the
avenue.

All the way down the drive she discoursed on woodcraft, glancing sharply
at the trees. Forestry--she said-like building, and all other pursuits
which required, faith and patient industry, was a lost art in this
second-hand age. She had made Barbara's grandfather practise it, so
that at Catton (her country place) and even at Ravensham, the trees were
worth looking at. Here, at Monkland, they were monstrously neglected.
To have the finest Italian cypress in the country, for example, and not
take more care of it, was a downright scandal!

Barbara listened, smiling lazily. Granny was so amusing in her energy
and precision, and her turns of speech, so deliberately homespun, as if
she--than whom none could better use a stiff an