instead of enabling Londoners to live in the country, have turned
the country into a city. London will soon assume the shape of a
great starfish. The old town, extending from Poplar to Hammersmith,
will be the nucleus, and the various railway lines will be the projecting
rays.

There are still, however, some few nooks within reach of the
metropolis which have not been be-villaged and be-terraced out of
all look of rural charm, and the little village of Hampton, with
its old-fashioned country inn, and its bright, quiet, grassy
river, is one of them, in spite of the triple metropolitan
waterworks on the one side, and the close vicinity on the other
of Hampton Court, that well-loved resort of cockneydom.

It was here that the Woodwards lived. Just on the outskirts of
the village, on the side of it farthest from town, they inhabited
not a villa, but a small old-fashioned brick house, abutting on
to the road, but looking from its front windows on to a lawn and
garden, which stretched down to the river.

The grounds were not extensive, being included, house and all, in
an area of an acre and a half: but the most had been made of it;
it sloped prettily to the river, and was absolutely secluded from
the road. Thus Surbiton Cottage, as it was called, though it had
no pretension to the grandeur of a country-house, was a desirable
residence for a moderate family with a limited income.

Mrs. Woodward's family, for there was no Mr. Woodward in the
case, consisted of herself and three daughters. There was
afterwards added to this an old gentleman, an uncle of Mrs.