what she had said, he read a
little, and said that that was exactly what it was."

"Yes," said Howard, smiling, "I admit that it was not very encouraging!
But I wish you would try something more simple. You say you know the
people here and talk to them. Can't you write down the sort of things
they say, the talks you have with them, the way they look at things? I
read a book once like that, called Country Conversations, and I
wondered that so few people ever tried it. Why should one try to write
improbable stories, even NICE stories, when the thing itself is so
interesting? One doesn't understand these country people. They have an
idea of life as definite as a dog or a cat, and it is not in the least
like ours. Why not take a family here; describe their house and
possessions, what they look like, what they do, what their history has
been, and then describe some talks with them? I can't imagine anything
more interesting. Perhaps you could not publish them at present; but
they wouldn't be quite wasted, because you might show them to me, and I
want to know all about the people here. You mustn't pass over things
because they seem homely and familiar--those are just the interesting
things--what they eat and drink and wear, and all that. How does that
strike you?"

"I like the idea very much indeed," said Maud. "I will try--I will
begin at once. And even if nothing comes of it, it will be nice to
think it may be of use to you, to know about the people."

"Very well," said Howard, "that is a bargain. It is exactly what I
want. Do begin at once, and let me have the first instalment of the
Chronicles of Windlow."

They had arrived by this time at a point high on the downs. The rough
white road, full of flints, had taken them up by deep-hedged cuttings,
through coverts where the spring flowers were just beginning to show in
the undergrowth, and out on to the smooth turf of the downs. They were
near the top now, and they could see right down into Windlow Malzoy,
lying like a map beneath them; the top of the Church tower, its leaden
roof, the roofs of the Vicarage, the little straggling street among its
orchards and gardens; farther off, up the valley, they could see the
Manor in its gardens; beyond the opposite ridge, a far-off view of
great richness spread itself in a belt of dark-blue colour. It was a
still day; on the left hand there was a great smooth valley-head, with
a wood of beeches, and ploughed fields in the bottom. T