ike cooks or housemaids? I am
dreadfully tired; but we must go in and work, Phil. I wonder what has
become of Dulce?" And then the charming vision disappeared from the
young clergyman's eyes, and he was free to fix his mind on the wire
fence that was required for the poultry-yard.

As soon as he had accomplished his errand he set his face towards the
vicarage, for he made up his mind suddenly that he would call on the
Middletons, and perhaps on Mrs. Cheyne. The latter was a duty that he
owed to his pastoral conscience; but there was no need for him to go
to the Middletons'. Nevertheless, the father and daughter were his
most intimate friends, and on all occasions he was sure of Miss
Middleton's sympathy. They lived at Brooklyn,--a low white house a
little below the vicarage. It was a charming house, he always thought,
so well arranged and well managed; and the garden--that was the
colonel's special hobby--was as pretty as a garden could be. The
drawing-room looked shady and comfortable, for the French windows
opened into a cool veranda, fitted up with flower-baskets and wicker
chairs; and beyond lay the trim lawn, with beds of blazing verbenas
and calceolarias. Miss Middleton's work-table was just within one of
the windows; but the colonel, in his gray summer suit, reclined in a
lounging-chair in the veranda. He was reading the paper to his
daughter, and was just in the middle of last night's debate;
nevertheless, he threw it aside, well pleased at the interruption.

"I knew how I should find you occupied," observed Mr. Drummond, as he
exchanged a smile with Miss Middleton. He was fully aware that
politics were not to her taste, and yet every afternoon she listened
to such reading, well content even with the sound of her father's
voice.

Elizabeth Middleton was certainly a charming person. Phillis had
called her the "gray-haired girl," and the title suited her. She was
not a girl by any means, having reached her six-and-thirtieth year;
but her hair was as silvery as an old woman's, gray and plentiful, and
soft as silk, and contrasted strangely with her still youthful face.

Without being handsome, Elizabeth Middleton was beautiful. Her
expression was sweet and restful, and attracted all hearts. People who
were acquainted with her said she was the happiest creature they
knew,--that she simply diffused sunshine by her mere presence; such a
contrast, they would add, to her neighbor Mrs. Cheyne, who bore all
her troubl