shadows and enlivening newness of the morning, has not yet made any
perceptible advance towards acquiring those mellow and soothing
tones which grace its decline. Next, it was that stage in the
progress of the week when business--which, carried on under the
gables of an old country place, is not devoid of a romantic sparkle
--was well-nigh extinguished. Lastly, the town was intentionally
bent upon being attractive by exhibiting to an influx of visitors
the local talent for dramatic recitation, and provincial towns
trying to be lively are the dullest of dull things.

Little towns are like little children in this respect, that they
interest most when they are enacting native peculiarities
unconscious of beholders. Discovering themselves to be watched they
attempt to be entertaining by putting on an antic, and produce
disagreeable caricatures which spoil them.

The weather-stained clock-face in the low church tower standing at
the intersection of the three chief streets was expressing half-past
two to the Town Hall opposite, where the much talked-of reading from
Shakespeare was about to begin. The doors were open, and those
persons who had already assembled within the building were noticing
the entrance of the new-comers--silently criticizing their dress
--questioning the genuineness of their teeth and hair--estimating
their private means.

Among these later ones came an exceptional young maiden who glowed
amid the dulness like a single bright-red poppy in a field of brown
stubble. She wore an elegant dark jacket, lavender dress, hat with
grey strings and trimmings, and gloves of a colour to harmonize.
She lightly walked up the side passage of the room, cast a slight