ble rood screen; and the
Yarn Market is unique in England; so is the queer old "Nunnery,"
so-called, and the ancient inn where we stayed.

[Illustration: "_The Yarn Market is unique in England_"]

Cleve Abbey is only a few miles away, and I was surprised at the
magnificence of the ruin, which was used as a farmhouse for years, and
would be thus degraded still if it weren't for Mr. Luttrell, the owner
of Dunster Castle, who has bought and restored it. Cistercian, and as
old as the tenth century, with a gatehouse of Richard the Second's day;
bits of exquisite encaustic tiling from the demolished church, preserved
religiously under glass; and a refectory roof to enchant artists and
archaeologists--beautiful hammer-beams and carved angels of Spanish
walnut wood, fifteenth century, I think; and some shadowy ghosts of
frescoes.

Ellaline was enchanted with the old custodian, who talked much about
"heart of oak," and when she ventured to remark that he "looked as if he
were made of it," she and the old fellow himself both blushed amusingly.

We came on through pretty, respectable-looking Williton, where lived
Reginald Fitz Urse who helped murder St. Thomas of Canterbury, and where
everything is extraordinarily ancient except the motor garage.

By this we were among the Quantock Hills; and the differences between
Devonshire and Somerset scenery were beginning to be very marked. It's
difficult to define such differences; but they're visible in every
feature; the shape of the downs; the trees, standing up tall and
isolated in "Zummerzet," like landmarks; even the conformation of
roads--which, by the way, are extremely good in these regions, a
pleasant change for the car after some of her wild hill-climbing and
tobogganning feats in North Devon.

Do you remember how, when we were boys, we discussed favourite names,
and placed Audrey high in the list among those of women? Here, in the
Quantock Hills, they spell it "Audrie," for the saint who patronizes
West Quantoxhead; and I have learned that it was the name which the
outlawed Doone tribe best loved to give their girl children. I think I
used to say I should like to marry a girl named Audrey, but never heard
of such a person in real life, until Ellaline informed me, on seeing St.
Audrie's, that it's the name of her most intimate friend. I responded by
confessing my boyish resolve, and to amuse myself, asked if she would
some day introduce me to her friend. "Not for the world