behave, it's very hard on _them_. I don't believe in that sort o' thing.
If you do wrong you must bear the consequences, or what's the good of
keeping honest. It's confusing to young people to get such ideas, and it
does a lot of harm, Miss Hilton. You never had any young people to bring
up. It's _that_ that alters your mind about those things. There's our
William. He's not one for saying much. He's one of the old-fashioned
kind. He's a kind of serious way of talking. Many a time we laugh at
him, and say, 'For goodness sake, do stir up and laugh a bit.' I says to
him privately, 'What do you think of it, William?' 'I've no respect for
her whatever,' he says. 'If a sister of mine was to go that way, she'd
have seen the last of her brother.' That's how they think you see, Miss
Hilton, and you can't say they shouldn't."

"I suppose not," replied Anne, wearily. "Nobody seems to get any nearer
not judging their neighbours after all this time."

"Well, you can't make the world over again, however you try," said Mrs
Crowther. "You've to take things as you find 'em, and make the best of
'em. It's hard enough for them that's kept straight without petting them
that's weak and foolish enough to go wrong. You'll never be able to
alter it, Miss Hilton, so you better take it so."

"I can't do anything more at present," said Anne; "but I must be getting
home again. The pony'll be wondering what's become of me. I'm very much
obliged to you for the rest, Mrs Crowther. You don't think it's raining
now, do you?"

"No! I don't think so!" said Mrs Crowther. "How's Mary, Miss Hilton?
She'll have been sadly hindered with all this rain. They put off two
cricket-matches this week. They're not playing football yet, or else the