IT must be admitted that November is not an auspicious month for a stranger to make acquaintance with the English country; the trees are bare and leafless, the fields empty and uninteresting, and what can be said for monotonous, muddy roads, cold frosty mornings, and long dark nights?

However, Letty speedily settled into her awarded niche, and endeavoured to make herself at home. She soon became acquainted with the dogs and horses, with her uncle’s little fads, and her aunt’s peculiarities, duly appeared at church, was presented to the parson’s afflicted wife, and made a state call upon Mrs. Hesketh. Also, she did her utmost to be useful; but her well-meaning efforts were not always successful. For instance, with respect to arranging flowers, the schoolgirl had no experience, her vases looked ragged, or in clumps; she lacked the ‘airy, fairy’ touch of an expert—but that, no doubt, would come. Then as to dusting the valuable old china; here again she was something of a failure. In handling a cherished blue plate, it slipped through her fingers as a thing alive, rolled defiantly along a stone passage, and subsided in a dozen pieces. Although Mrs. Fenchurch had picked this up for sevenpence in a village inn, it was a good specimen, and she showed her displeasure and annoyance plainly—in fact so plainly, that Letty wept! However, day by day the new-comer improved; she helped her aunt to feed the fowls, and date and pack the eggs for sale, assisted in the greenhouse, brushed and exercised the dogs, and took an humble and subordinate part in Mrs. Fenchurch’s numerous and absorbing occupations.

The Holt was situated at the extremity of a picturesque village, which consisted of a rambling street of red brick or black and white houses; half-way down this, perched on a high bank, was a fine old church, with its surrounding graveyard; and here and there, were little shops, and quaint signboards, and what had once been a celebrated posting inn—now used for the storage of grain. At the further end of Thornby was a grim-faced Georgian mansion, standing back from the road, its lawn and approach well screened from view by thick laurel hedges; immediately behind the residence, were large and unexpectedly delightful grounds. Mrs. Hesketh, who had occupied Oldcourt for ten years, was a childless widow, with few belongings or intimates; once a notable leader in society, but latterly indifferent health, and serious money losses, had swept her out of the social current, and she had come to Thornby to live near her active cousin, Dolly Fenchurch, possibly in hopes of catching the contagion of her love for a busy rural life. An intellectual woman, and an omnivorous reader, Maude Hesketh dwelt to a great exte