e of what he says,
I'll have it as different as possible before this time next year.
Why, there's lots of timber that ought to come out of the plantation;
and there's places where the roots want stubbing up horribly. These
things always pay for themselves if they are properly done. Any good
done in the world always pays." Clara often remembered those words
afterwards when she was thinking of her cousin's character. Any good
done in the world always pays!

"But you mustn't offend my father, even though it should do good,"
she said.

"I understand," he answered. "I won't tread on his toes. Where do you
get your milk and butter?"

"We buy them."

"From Stovey, I suppose."

"Yes; from Mr. Stovey. It goes against the rent."

"And it ought to go against the grain too,--living in the country and
paying for milk! I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a cow.
It shall be a little present from me to you." He said nothing of
the more important present which this would entail upon him in the
matter of the grass for the cow; but she understood the nature of the
arrangement, and was anxious to prevent it.

"Oh, Mr. Belton, I think we'd better not attempt that," she said.

"But we will attempt it. I've pledged myself to do nothing to oppose
your father; but I've made no such promise as to you. We'll have a
cow before I'm many days older. What a pretty place this is! I do
like these rocks so much, and it is such a comfort to be off the
flat."

"It is pretty."

"Very pretty. You've no conception what an ugly place Plaistow is.
The land isn't actual fen now, but it was once. And it's quite flat.
And there is a great dike, twenty feet wide, oozing through it,--just
oozing, you know; and lots of little dikes, at right angles with the
big one. And the fields are all square. And there are no hedges,--and
hardly a tree to be seen in the place."

"What a picture you have drawn! I should commit suicide if I lived
there."

"Not if you had so much to do as I have."

"And what is the house like?"

"The house is good enough,--an old-fashioned manor-house, with high
brick chimneys, and brick gables, tiled all over, and large square
windows set in stone. The house is good enough, only it stands in the
middle of a farm-yard. I said there were no trees, but there is an
avenue."

"Come, that's something."

"It was an old family seat, and they used to have avenues in those
days; but it doesn't lead up to the present hall door.