In the very next enclosure did not a magnolia open its hard white
flowers against the watery blue of April? And was there not, a
little way down the line, a fence foamed over every May be lilac
waves of wistaria? Farther still, a horse-chestnut lifted its
candelabra of buff and pink blossoms above broad fans of foliage;
while in the opposite yard June was sweet with the breath of a
neglected syringa, which persisted in growing in spite of the
countless obstacles opposed to its welfare.

But if nature occupied the front rank in Mrs. Manstey's view,
there was much of a more personal character to interest her in
the aspect of the houses and their inmates. She deeply
disapproved of the mustard-colored curtains which had lately been
hung in the doctor's window opposite; but she glowed with
pleasure when the house farther down had its old bricks washed
with a coat of paint. The occupants of the houses did not often
show themselves at the back windows, but the servants were always
in sight. Noisy slatterns, Mrs. Manstey pronounced the greater
number; she knew their ways and hated them. But to the quiet
cook in the newly painted house, whose mistress bullied her, and
who secretly fed the stray cats at nightfall, Mrs. Manstey's
warmest sympathies were given. On one occasion her feelings were
racked by the neglect of a housemaid, who for two days forgot to
feed the parrot committed to her care. On the third day, Mrs.
Manstey, in spite of her gouty hand, had just penned a letter,
beginning: "Madam, it is now three days since your parrot has
been fed," when the forgetful maid appeared at the window with a
cup of seed in her hand.