re was
nothing that just suited us. We thought it would be too dull to be right
out in the country, at the end of a long drive--exclusive you know, but
terribly dreary, and then your father said, 'Build a house to suit
ourselves in Priorsford, and we'll have shops and a station and
everything quite near.' His idea was to have a house as like a
hydropathic as possible, and to call it The Towers. 'A fine big red
house, Aggie,' he often said to me, 'with plenty of bow-windows and
turrets and a hothouse off the drawing-room and a sweep of gravel in
front and a lot of geraniums and those yellow flowers--what d'you call
'em?--and good lawns, and a flower garden and a kitchen garden and a
garage, and what more d'you want?' Well, well, he got them all, but he
didn't live long to enjoy them. I think myself that having nothing to do
but take his meals killed him. I hear wheels! That'll be the Jowetts.
They're always so punctual. Am I all right?"

Muriel assured her that nothing was wrong or lacking, and they waited
for the guests.

The door opened and a servant announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Jowett."

Mrs. Jowett walked very slowly and delicately, and her husband pranced
behind her. It might have been expected that in their long walk together
through life Mr. Jowett would have got accustomed to his wife's
deliberate entrances, but no--it always seemed as if he were just on the
point of giving her an impatient push from behind.

She was a gentle-looking woman with soft, white hair and a
pink-and-white complexion--the sort of woman one always associates with
old lace. In her youth it was said that she had played the harp, and one
felt that the "grave, sweet melody" would have well become her. She was
dressed in pale shades of mauve, and had a finely finished look. The
Indian climate and curries had affected Mr. Jowett's liver, and made his
temper fiery, but his heart remained the sound, childlike thing it had
always been. He quarrelled with everybody (though never for long), but
people in trouble gravitated to him naturally, and no one had ever
asked him anything in reason and been refused; children loved him.

Mr. Jackson, the Episcopalian clergyman, followed hard behind the
Jowetts, and was immediately engaged in an argument with Mr. Jowett as
to whether or not choral communion, which had recently been started and
which Mr. Jowett resented, as he resented all new things, should be
continued.

"Ridiculous!" he shouted--"utterly r