looking over the Parade,
where the rolling mist almost obscured all sight of the sea, and sky and
water were of the same dull neutral gray. The road was empty, not even
the most venturesome visitors having braved the wind and weather that
morning; while Biddy herself, usually as punctual as the clock, had
evidently decided it was too wet a day to vend her fish. There was
absolutely nothing to be seen; nevertheless Isobel would have stood
there watching the endless drops falling from the unkindly skies, had
not Mrs. Jackson appeared from the kitchen, and declaring that the rain
was beating into the hall, firmly closed the door and shut out any
further prospect.

"You'd get cold too, missy," she said, "standin' in a full draught, for
Polly will leave that back door open, say what I will, and it turns
chilly of a wet day. One can have too much fresh air, to my mind. There
was a gentleman stayed here last summer, now, just crazy he was on what
he called 'hygiene;' bathed regular every morning before breakfast, no
matter how the tide might be. I warned him it was a-injuring his health
to go in the water on an empty stomach, but he didn't take no notice of
what I said, and lay out on damp sand, and sat under open windows, till
he ended up with a bad bout of the brown-chitis, with the doctor comin'
every day, and me turned sick nurse to poultice him--Emma Jane bein' at
home then, or I couldn't have found the time to do it. I've no opinion
of these modern health dodges as folks sets such store by now. In my
young days we never so much as thought about drains, and if the pig-sty
was at the back door, no one was any the worse for it! I call it
right-down interferin' the way these inspectors come round sayin' you
mustn't even throw a bucket of potato skins down in your own yard.
Nuisance, indeed! It's them as is the nuisance. Their nasty
disinfectants smell far worse, to my mind, than a few cabbage leaves. My
grandmother lived to ninety-four, and never slept with her bedroom
window open in her life, not even on the hottest of summer days, and
drew her drinkin' water regular from the churchyard well, which they
tell you now is swarmin' with 'microbes,' or whatever they call 'em. I
never saw any, though I've let my pail down in it many a time; and it
was a deal sweeter and fresher, to my taste, than what you get laid on
in lead pipes. Jackson may go in for this new-fangled 'sanitation' if he
likes, votin' for all kinds of improveme