the Weald. The further one descended the garden, the more glorious was this lateral view.

“I was merely going to remark, Freddy, that I trusted they were no relations of Emerson the philosopher, a most trying man. Pray, does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, yes,” he grumbled. “And you will be satisfied, too, for they're friends of Cecil; so — elaborate irony — ”you and the other country families will be able to call in perfect safety.”

“CECIL?” exclaimed Lucy.

“Don't be rude, dear,” said his mother placidly. “Lucy, don't screech. It's a new bad habit you're getting into.”

“But has Cecil — ”