at right angles with the big one. And the fields are all square. And there are no hedges,—and hardly a tree to be seen in the place."

"What a picture you have drawn! I should commit suicide if I lived there."

"Not if you had so much to do as I have."

"And what is the house like?"

"The house is good enough,—an old-fashioned manor-house, with high brick chimneys, and brick gables, tiled all over, and large square windows set in stone. The house is good enough, only it stands in the middle of a farm-yard. I said there were no trees, but there is an avenue."

"Come, that's something."

"It was an old family seat, and they used to have avenues in those days; but it doesn't lead up to the present hall door. It comes sideways up to the farm-yard; so that the whole thing must have been different once, and there must have been a great court-yard. In Elizabeth's time Plaistow Manor was rather a swell place, and belonged to some Roman Catholics who came to grief, and then the Howards got it. There's a whole history about it, only I don't much care about those things."

"And is it yours now?"

"It's between me and my uncle, and I pay him rent for his part. He's a clergyman you know, and he has a living in Lincolnshire,—not far off."

"And do you live alone in that big house?"

"There's my sister. You've heard of Mary;—haven't you?"

Then Clara remembered that there was a Miss Belton,—a poor sickly creature, with a twisted spine and a hump back, as to whose welfare she ought to have made inquiries.

"Oh, yes; of course," said Clara. "I hope she's better than she used to be,—when we heard of her."

"She'll never be better. But then she does not become much worse. I think she does grow a little weaker. She's older than I am, you know,—two years older; but you would think she was quite an old woman to look at her." Then, for the next half-hour, they talked about Mary Belton as they visited every corner of the place. Belton still had an eye to business as he went on talking, and Clara remarked how many sticks he moved as he went, how many stones he kicked on one side, and how invariably he noted any defect in the fences. But still he talked of 

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