which destroyed it there, will do so here; the work is half accomplished
already, for this very road on which we are driving was, twenty years
ago, little better than a bog along which it was not safe for a horse to
pass."

"Wonderful energy your people must have, certainly. Where are we going
next?"

Mrs. Bellairs was provoked. She was an ardent lover of her country; and
to talk of its advantages and disadvantages with an interested companion
was to her a keen pleasure; the intense indifference of Mr. Percy's
reply, therefore, made her regard him for a moment with anything but
goodwill. She gave Bob a sharp "flick" with her whip, and paused a
minute before answering; when she did speak, it was with a little
malice.

"I suppose you have not yet had time to call on Maurice Leigh? I can
take you there now if you like. I often go to see old Mr. Leigh."

"Thank you. I saw young Leigh just now at William's office."

"I am going to the Cottage then, that is, Mrs. Costello's."

They were almost at the turning of the lane as she spoke, and directly
after came in sight of the pretty low house, standing in a perfect nest
of green. They stopped at the gate; and Margery, a decent middle-aged
woman, immediately came out to open it. She took hold of the pony like
an old acquaintance, and fastened him to a post in such a way that he
could amuse himself by nibbling the grass which grew along the
little-frequented path; then smoothing down her white apron, ushered