stands, and has stood for many a year, in that pleasant suburban
district which lies between Norwood, Anerley, and Forest Hill. Long
before there had been a thought of a township there, when the Metropolis
was still quite a distant thing, old Mr. Williams had inhabited "The
Brambles," as the little house was called, and had owned all the fields
about it. Six or eight such cottages scattered over a rolling country-
side were all the houses to be found there in the days when the century
was young. From afar, when the breeze came from the north, the dull,
low roar of the great city might be heard, like the breaking of the tide
of life, while along the horizon might be seen the dim curtain of smoke,
the grim spray which that tide threw up. Gradually, however, as the
years passed, the City had thrown out a long brick-feeler here and
there, curving, extending, and coalescing, until at last the little
cottages had been gripped round by these red tentacles, and had been
absorbed to make room for the modern villa. Field by field the estate
of old Mr. Williams had been sold to the speculative builder, and had
borne rich crops of snug suburban dwellings, arranged in curving
crescents and tree-lined avenues. The father had passed away before his
cottage was entirely bricked round, but his two daughters, to whom the
property had descended, lived to see the last vestige of country taken
from them. For years they had clung to the one field which faced their
windows, and it was only after much argument and many heartburnings,
that they had at last consented that it should share the fate of the
others. A broad road was driven through their quiet domain, the quarter
was re-named "The Wilderness," and three square, staring, uncompromising
villas began to sprout up on the other side. With sore hearts, the two
shy little old maids watched their steady progress, and speculated as to
what fashion of neighbors chance would bring into the little nook which
had always been their own.