to the ends
of the earth to look upon your face once more, wouldn't she? Mothers
are made like that."

"Some mothers," said John; and he turned away his head.

"Not yours? I'm sorry," said Lady Mary, simply.

"Oh, well--you know, she was a good deal--in the world," he said,
repenting himself.

"I use to wish so much to live in the world too," said Lady
Mary, dreamily; "but ever since I was fifteen I've lived in this
out-of-the-way place."

"Don't be too sorry for that," said John; "you don't know what a
revelation this out-of-the-way place may be to a tired worker like me,
who lives always amid the unlovely sights and sounds of a city."

"Ah! but that's just it," she said quickly. "You see I'm not
tired--yet; and I've done no work."

"That is why it's such a rest to look at you," said John, smiling.
"Flowers have their place in creation as vegetables have theirs. But
we only ask the flowers to bloom peacefully in sheltered gardens;
we don't insist on popping them into the soup with the onions and
carrots."

Lady Mary laughed as though she had not a care in the world.

"It is quite refreshing to find that a big-wig like you can talk just
as much nonsense as a little-wig like me," she said; "but you don't
know, for all that, what the silence and monotony of life here _can_
be. The very voice of a stranger falls like music on one's ears. I was
so glad to see you, and you were so kind and sympathetic about--my
boy. And then, all in a moment, my joy was turned into mourning,
wasn't it? And Peter is going to the war, and it's all like a dreadful
dream; except that I know I shall wake up every morning only to
realize more strongly that it's true."

John remembered that he was dallying with his mission, instead of
fulfilling it.

"Sir Timothy cannot go to see his son off? That must be a grief to
him," he said.

"No; he isn't coming. He has business, I believe," said Lady Mary, a
little coldly. "There has been a dispute over some Crown lands, which
march with ours. Officials are often very dilatory and difficult to
deal with. Probably, however, you know more about it than I do. I am
going alone. I have just been giving the necessary orders. I shall
take a servant with me, as well as my maid, for I am such an
inexperienced traveller--though it seems absurd, at my age--that I am
quite frightened of getting into the wrong trains. I dread a journey
by myself. Even such a little journey as that. But, of course, noth