The gravel sweep was weedy, and grass had sprung up at the very
jaws of the garage. And Evie's rockery was only bumps. Perhaps Evie was
responsible for Miss Avery's oddness. But Margaret suspected that the
cause lay deeper, and that the girl's silly letter had but loosed the
irritation of years.

"It's a beautiful meadow," she remarked. It was one of those open-air
drawing-rooms that have been formed, hundreds of years ago, out of the
smaller fields. So the boundary hedge zigzagged down the hill at right
angles, and at the bottom there was a little green annex--a sort of
powder-closet for the cows.

"Yes, the maidy's well enough," said Miss Avery, "for those, that is,
who don't suffer from sneezing." And she cackled maliciously. "I've
seen Charlie Wilcox go out to my lads in hay time--oh, they ought to do
this--they mustn't do that--he'd learn them to be lads. And just then
the tickling took him. He has it from his father, with other things.
There's not one Wilcox that can stand up against a field in June--I
laughed fit to burst while he was courting Ruth."

"My brother gets hay fever too," said Margaret.

"This house lies too much on the land for them. Naturally, they were
glad enough to slip in at first. But Wilcoxes are better than nothing,
as I see you've found."

Margaret laughed.

"They keep a place going, don't they? Yes, it is just that."

"They keep England going, it is my opinion."

But Miss Avery upset her by replying: "Ay, they breed like rabbits.
Well, well, it's a funny world. But He who made it knows what He wants
in it, I suppose. If Mrs. Charlie is expecting her fourth, it isn't for
us to repine."

"They breed and they also work," said Margaret, conscious of some
invitation to disloyalty, which was echoed by the very breeze and by the
songs of the birds. "It certainly is a funny world, but so long as men
like my husband and his sons govern it, I think it'll never be a bad
one--never really bad."

"No, better'n nothing," said Miss Avery, and turned to the wych-elm.

On their way back to the farm she spoke of her old friend much more
clearly than before. In the house Margaret had wondered whether she
quite distinguished the first wife from the second. Now she said: "I
never saw much of Ruth after her grandmother died, but we stayed civil.
It was a very civil family. Old Mrs. Howard never spoke against
anybody, nor let any one be turned away without food. Then it was never
'Trespassers will b