them are very small--but it is
the rent. For though Middlemead is scarcely more than a village it is
much in repute for its healthiness, and the rents are rising.'

'What are the rents of the smallest of the houses you speak of?'
grandmamma asked.

'Forty pounds is the cheapest,' Mr. Timbs answered, 'and the situation
of that is not so good. Rather low and chilly in winter, and somewhat
lonely.'

'I don't mind about the loneliness,' said grandmamma, 'but a low or
damp situation would never do.'

Mr. Timbs was looking over his lists as she spoke. Her words seemed to
strike him, and he suddenly peered up through his spectacles.

'You don't mind about loneliness,' he repeated. 'Then I wonder----' and
he turned over the leaves of his book quickly. 'There _is_ another house
to let,' he said; 'to tell the truth I had forgotten about it, for it
has never been to let unfurnished before; and it would be considered too
lonely for all the year round by most people.'

'Are there no houses near?' asked grandmamma. 'I don't fancy Middlemead
is the sort of place where one need fear burglars, and besides,' she
went on with a little smile, 'we should not have much of value to steal.
The silver plate that I have I shall leave for the most part in London.
But in case of sudden illness or any alarm of that kind, I should not
like to be out of reach of everybody.'

'There are two or three small cottages close to the little house I am
thinking of,' said Mr. Timbs, 'and the people in them are very
respectable. I leave the key with one of them.'

Then he went on to tell grandmamma exactly where it was, how to get
there, and all about it, and with every word, dear granny said her
heart grew lighter and lighter. She really began to hope she had found
a nest for her poor little homeless bird--that was _me_, you
understand--especially when Mr. Timbs finished up by saying that the
rent was only twelve pounds a year, one pound a month. And she _had_
made up her mind to give as much as twenty pounds if she could find
nothing nice and healthy for less.

She looked at her watch; yes, there was still time to go to see Windy
Gap Cottage and yet get back to the station in time for the train she
had fixed to go back by--that is to say, if she took a fly. She has
often told me how she stood and considered about that fly. Was it worth
while to go to the expense? Yes, she decided it was, for after all if
she found nothing to suit us at Middlemead s