the vale of the
river. To our right, flowers, and ferns, and heather climbed the steep
hill, broken at every few yards by tiny torrents of mountain streams.
The sun was setting over the distant Deadmanstone moors; little dropping
wells tinkled by the roadside, where dozens of fat black snails were out
for an evening stroll, and here and there a brimming stone trough
reflected the rosy tints of the sky.

It was grey and chilly when we drove into the village. A stone
pack-horse track, which now served as footpath, had run by the road and
lasted into the village. The cottages were of stone, the walls and
outhouses were of stone, and the vista was closed by an old stone
church, like a miniature cathedral. There was more stone than grass in
the churchyard, and there were more loose stones than were pleasant on
the steep hill, up which we scrambled before taking a sharp turn into
the Vicarage grounds.

CHAPTER XX.

THE VICARAGE--KEZIAH--THE DEAR BOYS--THE COOK--A YORKSHIRE
TEA--BED-FELLOWS.

It was Midsummer. The heavy foliage brushed our faces as "the old mare,"
with slack reins upon her back, drew us soberly up the steep drive, and
stood still, of her own accord, before a substantial-looking house,
built--"like everything else," I thought--of stone. Huge
rose-bushes--literal _bushes_, not "dwarfs" or "standards"--the growth
of many years, bent under their load of blossoms. The old "maiden's
blush," too rare now in our bedding plant gardens, the velvety "damask,"
the wee Scotch roses, the prolific white, and the curious "York and
Lancaster," with monster moss-rose trees, hung over the carriage-road.
The place seemed almost overgrown with vegetation, like the palace of
the Sleeping Beauty.

As we turned the corner towards the house, Eleanor put out her left hand
and dragged off a great branch of "maiden's blush." She forgot the
recoil, which came against my face. All the full-blown flowers shed
their petals over me, and I made my first appearance at the Vicarage
covered with rose-leaves.

It was Keziah who welcomed us, and I have always had an affection for
her in consequence. She was housemaid then, and took to the kitchen
afterwards. After she had been about five years at the Vicarage, she
announced one day that she wished to go. She had no reason to give but
that she "thought she'd try a change." She tried one--for a month--and
didn't like it. Mrs. Arkwright took her back again, and in kitchen and
back pr