hillslopes shone with yellow grass, relieved by the green of fern and
belts of moss. The spot was picturesque; the old house, with its low,
straight front and mullioned windows, round which creepers grew, had a
touch of quiet beauty. Osborn was proud of Tarnside, although he
sometimes chafed because he had not enough money to care for it as he
ought.

By and by he glanced at his wife, who had silently filled the cups and
was cutting cake. She was a thin, quiet woman, with a hint of reserve in
her delicately molded face. Sometimes she tactfully exercised a
restraining influence, but for the most part acquiesced, for she had
found out, soon after her marriage, that her husband must not be opposed.

Grace, who sat opposite, had recently come home from school, and was
marked by an independence somewhat unusual at Tarnside. She argued
with Osborn and was firm when he got angry. Then she had a fresh
enthusiasm for change and improvement and a generous faith in what she
thought was good. Since Osborn was obstinately conventional, this
sometimes led to jars.

"After all, I'm going to have the terrace made," he remarked, and waited
for his wife's approval.

"Is it prudent?" she asked hesitatingly. "If I remember, you thought the
work would cost too much when we talked about it last."

"It will cost very little. In fact, I imagine the haulage of the gravel
and the slabs for the wall will cost nothing," Osborn replied. "Bell has
promised to bring me all the stuff we'll need with his new trailer."