"Well, I don't call the scenery giddy or frivolous, certainly. And I
reckon I begin to understand the kind of sermons Malcolm's folks brought
over to MacCorkleville. I guess they didn't know much of the heaven
they only saw once a year. Why, even the highest hills--which they call
mountains here--ain't big enough to get above the fogs of their own
creating."

Feminine wit is not apt to be abstract. It struck the consul that in
Miss Elsie's sprightliness there was the usual ulterior and personal
object, and he glanced around at his fellow-passengers. The object
evidently was sitting at the end of the opposite seat, an amused but
well-behaved listener. For the rest, he was still young and reserved,
but in face, figure, and dress utterly unlike his companions,--an
Englishman of a pronounced and distinct type, the man of society and
clubs. While there was more or less hinting of local influence in the
apparel of the others,--there was a kilt, and bare, unweather-beaten
knees from Birmingham, and even the American Elsie wore a bewitching
tam-o'-shanter,--the stranger carried easy distinction, from his tweed
traveling-cap to his well-made shoes and gaiters, as an unmistakable
Southerner. His deep and pleasantly level voice had been heard only once
or twice, and then only in answering questions, and his quiet, composed
eyes alone had responded to the young girl's provocation.

They were passing a brown glen, in the cheerless depths of which a brown
watercourse, a shade lighter, was running, and occasionally foaming
like brown beer. Beyond it heaved an arid bulk of hillside, the scant
vegetation of which, scattered like patches of hair, made it look like
the decaying hide of some huge antediluvian ruminant. On the dreariest
part of the dreary slope rose the ruins of a tower, and crumbling walls