, and a few villas of a
more pretentious character; but there is always a brisk competition for
the substantial domiciles, as snug and sound as any almshouse, which
encircle the village green of Birchmead.

In one of these cottages Mrs. Bundlecombe found a refuge when Alan sent
her away from London. It was in the occupation of an old friend with
whom she had been on intimate terms at Thorley--a widow like herself,
blessed by Heaven with a perennial love of flowers and vegetables, and
recognized by all her neighbors as the best gardener and neatest
housewife in the community. With Mrs. Chigwin, Alan's aunt was happier
than she had ever hoped to be again, and the only drawback to her
felicity was the thought of her nephew's troubles and solitude.

The next cottage to Mrs. Chigwin's was inhabited by old Mrs. Harrington,
the grandmother of Lettice's first maid. There had been no love lost
between Mrs. Bundlecombe and Mrs. Harrington, when they once lived in
the same town. The grudge had arisen out of a very small matter. The
bookseller's' wife had sold a Bible to Mrs. Harrington, in the absence
of her husband, for twopence more than Mr. Bundlecombe had demanded for
the same book, from some common acquaintance of both parties to the
bargain, on the previous day; and this common acquaintance having seen
the book and depreciated it a few weeks later, the purchaser had an
abiding sense of having been outrageously duped and cheated. She had
come to the shop and expressed herself to this effect, in no moderate
terms; and Mrs. Bundlecombe, whilst returning the twopence, had made
some disparaging remarks on the other lady's manners, meanness, dress,
age, and general inferiority. The affront had never been quite forgotten
on either side, and it was not without much ruffling of their mental
plumage that the two old bodies found themselves established within a
few yards of each other.

The squire's cottages at Birchmead were detached, but their ample
gardens had only a low wall between them, so that the neighboring
occupiers could not well avoid an occasional display of their mutual
disposition, whether good or bad. It was close upon winter when Mrs.
Bundlecombe arrived in the village, and very wet weather, so that there
was no immediate clashing of souls across the garden wall; but in
November there came a series of fine warm days, when no one who had a
garden could find any excuse for staying indoors. Accordingly, one
morning Mrs