remarks; she had known to a T beforehand exactly what he would say.
She took up her knitting in a great hurry, the needles clicking
angrily, her gray curls quivering under the energy of her hands and
arms, while she launched at her husband various retorts as to his
lack of consideration for her efforts and her inconvenience, which
were only very slightly modified by the presence of a stranger.

Robert Elsmere meanwhile lay on the grass, his face discreetly
turned away, an uncontrollable smile twitching the corners of his
mouth. Everything was fresh and piquant up here in this remote
corner of the north country, whether the mountain air or the windblown
streams, or the manners and customs of the inhabitants. His cousin's
wife, in spite of her ambitious conventionalities, was really the
child of Nature to a refreshing degree. One does not see these
types, he said to himself, in the cultivated monotony of Oxford or
London. She was like a bit of a bygone world--Miss Austen's or
Miss Ferrier's--unearthed for his amusement. He could not for the
life of him help taking the scenes of this remote rural existence,
which was quite new to him, as though they were the scenes of some
comedy of manners.

Presently, however, the vicar became aware that the passage of arms
between himself and his spouse was becoming just a little indecorous.
He got up with a 'hem!' intended to put an end to it, and deposited
his cup.

'Well, my dear, have it as you please. It all comes of your
determination to have Mrs. Seaton. Why couldn't you just ask the
Leyburns and let us enjoy ourselves?'