ll an intimate friend of his, she
seems so well acquainted with his movements.

"Now, here we are at the cross-roads. Here we turn to the left and go
down what we call a 'loke' in local parlance--in other words a
_cul-de-sac_. And now, over there, you can see the chimney of my
domicile. It only boasts of one. The other belongs to my good friend
and neighbour the afore-mentioned Mrs. Palling, a most refreshing
person whose acquaintance you should certainly make. She would amuse
you. She is great on signs and portents, and won't even make a loaf of
bread unless the moment is favourable. Her favourite hobby is 'Bees,'
but I shouldn't use the word 'hobby,' I should rather say they are her
household deities. She consults them about every detail, and informs
them of every occurrence. I only trust they have permitted her to keep
my fire burning, and then you shall soon have a cup of tea."

The sandy track along which they were passing--it could hardly be
called a road--ended abruptly in a tiny open space with a grove of
trees upon one side and a sandpit on the other. In the centre was a
pond, shrunken at this season of the year to most diminutive
proportions; so much so, indeed, that it barely served for the
ablutions of some half-a-dozen ducks, who hustled and jostled one
another angrily in their efforts to perform their toilet.

Several stout poles supported a varied assortment of washing, which
Isabella pointed out with a smile.

"I will not apologise for the publicity of our domestic arrangements,"
she said. "It used to distress me at first to see my most intimate
garments hanging in such close proximity to the well-worn
unmentionables of the redoubtable Mr. Palling, but I have got over
that. I did mention it to his wife, who failed to understand my
scruples, and replied, 'They meets in the washtub, and why not on the
line?' and in truth, why not? But here we are arrived at last."

The donkey pulled up at the gate of one of a pair of cottages which
stood at the further end of the little green, and Philippa gave an
exclamation of pleasure and surprise. "Oh," she cried, "but this is
perfectly charming!"

"Wait until you get inside the gate, and then I do think you will say
that my retreat is not ill-chosen," answered Isabella with a smile.

At this moment the door of the next cottage opened, and a woman came
running out. "Well now," she cried in a hearty voice, "didn't I say
just that same thing to Pal