out. My father always voted for Mr. Gladstone, until he was so
dreadful about Ireland."

"I see, I see. And now you have gone over to the enemy."

"Oh, please--! If my father was alive, I am sure he would vote
Radical again now that Ireland is all right. And as it is, the
glass over our front door was broken last election, and Freddy is
sure it was the Tories; but mother says nonsense, a tramp."

"Shameful! A manufacturing district, I suppose?"

"No--in the Surrey hills. About five miles from Dorking, looking
over the Weald."

Miss Lavish seemed interested, and slackened her trot.

"What a delightful part; I know it so well. It is full of the
very nicest people. Do you know Sir Harry Otway--a Radical if
ever there was?"

"Very well indeed."

"And old Mrs. Butterworth the philanthropist?" "Why, she rents a
field of us! How funny!"

Miss Lavish looked at the narrow ribbon of sky, and murmured:
"Oh, you have property in Surrey?"

"Hardly any," said Lucy, fearful of being thought a snob. "Only