we would bear no sympathy but from one another,
and even among ourselves we never gave way.

People admired us, I fancy, but were alienated and disappointed, and we
were quite willing _then_ to have it so.

CHAPTER IV.

SKIMPING'S FARM.

Skimping's Farm was the unlucky name of the place, and Fulk would allow
of no modification--his resolution was to accept it all entirely. Now
I love no spot on earth so well. It was very different then.

The farm-house lay on the slope of the hill, in the parish of
Trevorsham, but with the park lying between it and the main village.
The ground sloped sharply down to the little river, which, about two
miles lower down, blends with the Avon, being, in fact, a creek out of
Shinglebay. Beneath the house the stream is clear and rocky, but then
comes a flat of salt marsh, excellent for cattle; and then, again, the
river becomes tidal, and reaches at high water to the steep banks,
sometimes covered with wood, sometimes with pasture or corn.

Then under the little promontory comes the hamlet of fisherfolk at Quay
Trevor; and then the coast sweeps away to Shinglebay town, as anyone
may see by the map.

Ours is an old farm, and had an orchard of old apple-trees sloping down
to the river--as also did the home field, only divided by a low stone
wall from the little strip of flower-garden before the house, which in
those days had nothing in it but two tamarisks, a tea-tree, and a rose
with lovely buds and flowers that always had green hearts.

There was a good-sized kitchen-garden behind, and the farm-yard was at
the side by the back door. The house is old and therefore was handsome
outside, even then, but the chief of the lower story was comprised in
one big room, a "keeping-room," as it was called, with an open chimney,
screened by a settle, and with a long polished table, with a bench on
either side. Into this room the front porch--a deep one, with
seats--opened. At one end was a charming little sitting-room, parted
off; at the other, the real kitchen for cooking, and the dairy and all
the rest of the farm offices.

Up-stairs--the stairs are dark oak, and come down at one end of the big
kitchen--there is one beautiful large room, made the larger by a grand
oriel window under the gable, one opening out of it, and four more over
the offices; then a step-ladder and a great cheese-room, and a perfect
wilderness of odd nooks up in the roof.

As to furniture, Fulk had bought t