and massive gates flung open. As they passed,
Honora had a glimpse of a blue driveway under the arch of the forest. An
elderly woman looked out at them through the open half of a leaded
lattice.

"That's the Chamberlin estate," Susan volunteered. "Mr. Chamberlin has
built a castle on the top of that hill."

Honora caught her breath.

"Are many of the places here like that?" she asked. Susan laughed.

"Some people don't think the place is very--appropriate," she contented
herself with replying.

A little later, as they climbed higher, other houses could be discerned
dotted about the country-side, nearly all of them varied expressions of
the passion for a new architecture which seemed to possess the rich. Most
of them were in conspicuous positions, and surrounded by wide acres.
Each, to Honora, was an inspiration.

"I had no idea there were so many people here," she said.

"I'm afraid Sutton is becoming fashionable," answered Susan.

"And don't you want it to?" asked Honora.

"It was very nice before," said Susan, quietly.

Honora was silent. They turned in between two simple stone pillars that
divided a low wall, overhung from the inside by shrubbery growing under
the forest. Susan seized her friend's hand and pressed it.

"I'm always so glad to get back here," she whispered. "I hope you'll like
it."

Honora returned the pressure.

The grey road forked, and forked again. Suddenly the forest came to an
end in a sort of premeditated tangle of wild garden, and across a wide
lawn the great house loomed against the western sky. Its architecture was
of the '60's and '70's, with a wide porte-cochere that sheltered the high
entrance doors. These were both flung open, a butler and two footmen were
standing impassively beside them, and a neat maid within. Honora climbed
the steps as in a dream, followed Susan through a hall with a
black-walnut, fretted staircase, and where she caught a glimpse of two
huge Chinese vases, to a porch on the other side of the house spread with
wicker chairs and tables. Out of a group of people at the farther end of
this porch arose an elderly lady, who came forward and clasped Susan in
her arms.

"And is this Honora? How do you do, my dear? I had the pleasure of
knowing you when you were much younger."

Honora, too, was gathered to that ample bosom. Released, she beheld a
lady in a mauve satin gown, at the throat of which a cameo brooch was
fastened. Mrs. Holt's face left no room f