ealth of the
neighborhood, lift up his voice against the mild feminine
dram-drinking of these modern days, denouncing it in no measured
terms: the ladies of Oldfield listened incredulously, and, softly
quoting Cowper's lines as to the "cup that cheers and not inebriates,"
still presided over their dainty little tea-tables, and vied with one
another in the beauty of their china and the flavor of their
highly-scented Pekoe.

In spite of Dr. Weatherby's sneers and innuendoes, a great deal of
valuable time was spent in lingering in one or another of the pleasant
drawing-rooms of the place. As the magic hour approached, people
dropped in casually. The elder ladies sipped their tea and gossiped
softly; the younger ones, if it were summer-time, strolled out through
the open windows into the garden. Most of the houses had
tennis-grounds, and it was quite an understood thing that a game
should be played before they separated.

With some few exceptions, the inhabitants of Oldfield were wealthy
people. Handsome houses standing in their own grounds were dotted here
and there among the lanes and country roads. Some of the big houses
belonged to very big people indeed; but these were aristocrats who
only lived in their country houses a few months in the year, and whose
presence added more to the dignity than to the hilarity of the
neighborhood.

With these exceptions, the Oldfield people were highly gregarious and
hospitable; in spite of a few peculiarities, they had their good
points; a great deal of gossip prevailed, but it was in the main
harmless and good-natured. There was a wonderful simplicity of dress,
too, which in these days might be termed a cardinal virtue. The girls
wore their fresh cambrics and plain straw hats: no one seemed to
think it necessary to put on smart clothing when they wished to visit
their friends. People said this Arcadian simplicity was just as
studied: nevertheless, it showed perfection of taste and a just
appreciation of things.

The house that was considered the most attractive in Oldfield, and
where, on summer afternoons, the sound of youthful voices and laughter
were the loudest, was Glen Cottage, a small white house adjoining the
long village street, belonging to a certain Mrs. Challoner, who lived
here with her three daughters.

This may be accounted strange in the first instance, since the
Challoners were people of the most limited income,--an income so small
that nothing but the most mod