hepherd sang). In height and in the splendour of the
hills?' Let us take Mrs. Honeychurch's advice and hate clergymen no
more. What's this place?"

"Summer Street, of course," said Lucy, and roused herself.

The woods had opened to leave space for a sloping triangular meadow.
Pretty cottages lined it on two sides, and the upper and third side was
occupied by a new stone church, expensively simple, a charming shingled
spire. Mr. Beebe's house was near the church. In height it scarcely
exceeded the cottages. Some great mansions were at hand, but they were
hidden in the trees. The scene suggested a Swiss Alp rather than the
shrine and centre of a leisured world, and was marred only by two ugly
little villas--the villas that had competed with Cecil's engagement,
having been acquired by Sir Harry Otway the very afternoon that Lucy had
been acquired by Cecil.

"Cissie" was the name of one of these villas, "Albert" of the other.
These titles were not only picked out in shaded Gothic on the garden
gates, but appeared a second time on the porches, where they followed
the semicircular curve of the entrance arch in block capitals. "Albert"
was inhabited. His tortured garden was bright with geraniums and
lobelias and polished shells. His little windows were chastely swathed
in Nottingham lace. "Cissie" was to let. Three notice-boards, belonging
to Dorking agents, lolled on her fence and announced the not surprising
fact. Her paths were already weedy; her pocket-handkerchief of a lawn
was yellow with dandelions.

"The place is ruined!" said the ladies mechanically. "Summer Street will
never be the same again."

As the carriage passed, "Cissie's" door opened, and a gentleman came out
of her.

"Stop!" cried Mrs. Honeychurch, touching the coachman with her parasol.
"Here's Sir Harry. Now we shall know. Sir Harry, pull those things down
at once!"

Sir Harry Otway--who need not be described--came to the carriage and
said "Mrs. Honeychurch, I meant to. I can't, I really can't turn out
Miss Flack."

"Am I not always right? She ought to have gone before the contract was
signed. Does she still live rent free, as she did in her nephew's time?"

"But what can I do?" He lowered his voice. "An old lady, so very vulgar,
and almost bedridden."

"Turn her out," said Cecil bravely.

Sir Harry sighed, and looked at the villas mournfully. He had had full
warning of Mr. Flack's intentions, and might have bought the plot before
building c