lain old John Banks (deceased), formerly
of Jersey City, more latterly of Wall street and St. Thomas's.

Bazelhurst was a great catch, but Banks was a good name to conjure
with, so he capitulated with a willingness that savored somewhat of
suspended animation (so fearful was he that he might do something to
disturb the dream before it came true). That was two years ago. With
exquisite irony, Lady Bazelhurst decided to have a country-place in
America. Her agents discovered a glorious section of woodland in the
Adirondacks, teeming with trout streams, game haunts, unparalleled
scenery; her ladyship instructed them to buy without delay. It was
just here that young Mr. Shaw came into prominence.

His grandfather had left him a fortune and he was looking about for
ways in which to spend a portion of it. College, travel, and society
having palled on him, he hied himself into the big hills west of Lake
Champlain, searching for beauty, solitude, and life as he imagined it
should be lived. He found and bought five hundred acres of the most
beautiful bit of wilderness in the mountains.

The same streams coursed through his hills and dales that ran through
those of Lady Bazelhurst, the only distinction being that his portion
was the more desirable. When her ladyship's agents came leisurely up
to close their deal, they discovered that Mr. Shaw had snatched up
this choice five hundred acres of the original tract intended for
their client. At least one thousand acres were left for the young
lady, but she was petulant enough to covet all of it.

Overtures were made to Mr. Shaw, but he would not sell. He was
preparing to erect a handsome country-place, and he did not want to
alter his plans. Courteously at first, then somewhat scathingly he
declined to discuss the proposition with her agents. After two months
of pressure of the most tiresome persistency, he lost his temper
and sent a message to his inquisitors that suddenly terminated all
negotiations. Afterward, when he learned that heir client was a
lady, he wrote a conditional note of apology, but, if he expected
a response, he was disappointed. A year went by, and now, with the
beginning of this narrative, two newly completed country homes
glowered at each other from separate hillsides, one envious and
spiteful, the other defiant and a bit satirical.

Bazelhurst Villa looks across the valley and sees Shaw's Cottage
commanding the most beautiful view in the hills; the very eave