h fare," Philip went on, "you can almost always
stop at a house and get breakfast."

"I could not eat dry food," said the lady; "and you do not drink wine.
What _do_ you drink? Water?"

"Sometimes. Generally we manage to get milk. It is fresh and excellent."

"And without cups and saucers?" said the astonished lady. Lois's
"ripple of laughter" sounded again softly.

"Not quite without cups; I am afraid we really do without saucers. We
have an unlimited tablecloth, you know, of lichen and moss."

"And you really enjoy it?"

But here Lois shook her head. "There are no words to tell how much."

Mrs. Caruthers sighed. If she had spoken out her thoughts, it was too
plain to Lois, she would have said, "I do not enjoy anything."

"How long are you thinking to stay on this side of the water?" Tom
asked his friend now.

"Several months yet, I hope. I want to push on into Tyrol. We are not
in a hurry. The old house at home is getting put into order, and till
it is ready for habitation we can be nowhere better than here."

"The old house? _your_ house, do you mean? the old house at Battersby?"

"Yes."

"You are not going _there?_ for the winter at least?"

"Yes, we propose that. Why?"

"It is I that should ask 'why.' What on earth should you go to live
_there_ for?"

"It is a nice country, a very good house, and a place I am fond of, and
I think Lois will like."

"But out of the world!"

"Only out of your world," his friend returned, with a smile.

"Why should you go out of our world? it is _the_ world."

"For what good properties?"

"And it has always been your world," Tom went on, disregarding this
question.

"I told you, I am changed."

"But does becoming a Christian _change_ a man, Mr. Dillwyn?" Mrs.
Caruthers asked.

"So the Bible says."

"I never saw much difference. I thought we were all Christians."

"If you were to live a while in the house with that lady," said Tom
darkly, "you'd find your mistake. What in all the world do you expect
to do up there at Battersby?" he went on, turning to his friend.

"Live," said Philip. "In your world you only drag along existence. And
we expect to work, which you never do. There is no real living without
working, man. Try it, Tom."

"Cannot you work, as you call it, in town?"

"We want more free play, and more time, than town life allows one."

"Besides, the country is so much pleasanter," Lois added.

"But such a neighbourhood! you don't know the n