his garden was Burton's pride. Even in the sodden wet the flowers, not
wholly beaten down, showed how well cared for and excellent their
quality. The sward was even and trim, and the fruit-trees on the side of
the house had yielded prizes to their owner. The path to the door was of
new red tiles, and two large red pots held standard rose trees on either
side of the stained-glass entrance. Anne rang the new bell which clanged
loudly and followed the servant (a girl from a distance), to the showy
drawing-room, chilly and unused in its atmosphere. It was the kind of
house which impressed the country people by its "improvements," and at
which Anne went to the side door to leave her butter. But she was so
absorbed in her duty to the girl that she gave no thought to this, which
at another time she would have considered to be "taking a liberty." She
alone of the girl's old friends seemed to have this burden laid upon
her, and as she entered the house she was overwhelmed with the blame of
its having happened, and the difficulty now of recovering innocence
lost.




CHAPTER IX


She had scarcely had time to recover breath before Burton, the
horse-breeder, came into the room--a big-bearded man, of heavy build,
with a familiar loudness and fussiness which would have been better in
the open air, than even in the new vulgarity of his drawing-room. His
weight was the first thing one thought of. It would have taken a
powerful horse to carry him. He always wore his hat, whether indoors or
out, and bright tan leggings, with riding-breeches. Among his men and