was
now occupied by a great brand-new hotel. And there was the old grey Town
Hall. The wanderer turned down beside it, and made his way with eager
steps but a sinking heart in the direction of the line of cottages which
he used to know so well.

It was not difficult for him to find where they had been. The sea at
least was as of old, and from it he could tell where the cottages
had stood. But alas, where were they now! In their place an imposing
crescent of high stone houses reared their tall front to the beach. John
walked wearily down past their palatial entrances, feeling heart-sore
and despairing, when suddenly a thrill shot through him, followed by a
warm glow of excitement and of hope, for, standing a little back from
the line, and looking as much out of place as a bumpkin in a ballroom,
was an old whitewashed cottage, with wooden porch and walls bright with
creeping plants. He rubbed his eyes and stared again, but there it stood
with its diamond-paned windows and white muslin curtains, the very same
down to the smallest details, as it had been on the day when he last saw
it. Brown hair had become white, and fishing hamlets had changed into
cities, but busy hands and a faithful heart had kept granny's cottage
unchanged and ready for the wanderer.

And now, when he had reached his very haven of rest, John Huxford's
mind became more filled with apprehension than ever, and he came over so
deadly sick, that he had to sit down upon one of the beach benches
which faced the cottage. An old fisherman was perched at one end of it,
smoking his black clay pipe, and he remarked upon the wan face and sad
eyes of the stranger.

"You have overtired yourself," he said. "It doesn't do for old chaps
like you and me to forget our years."

"I'm better now, thank you," John answered. "Can you tell me, friend,
how that one cottage came among all those fine houses?"

"Why," said the old fellow, thumping his crutch energetically upon
the ground, "that cottage belongs to the most obstinate woman in all
England. That woman, if you'll believe me, has been offered the price
of the cottage ten times over, and yet she won't part with it. They have
even promised to remove it stone by stone, and put it up on some more
convenient place, and pay her a good round sum into the bargain, but,
God bless you! she wouldn't so much as hear of it."

"And why was that?" asked John.

"Well, that's just the funny part of it. It's all on account of a