Tiny Luttrell

onsole one for the tameness of the view from its windows. The surrounding country was perfectly flat but for Gallow Hill, and not at all gre

ore like the back-blocks than anything she had hoped to see in England, and pleased her more than anything she had seen. She showed her pleasure before they arrived at Essingham. She forgot to disparage the old country during the long drive from the county town; and that was nota

at knocked

he wainscot within the stuccoed walls. Around the house, and towering above the tiles, the elms stood as still against the evening sky as the square church tower but a little way to the right. To the right of that, but farther away, rose Gallow Hill. Thereabouts the sun was sinking, but the clock on the near side of the church tower had gilt hands, which marked the

unately Tiny Luttrell was still very young in some respects. Blessed with observant eyes, and having at this time an irritable memory to keep her prejudices at attention, her mind soon became the scene of many curious and specific contests between England and Australia. In the match between Wallandoon and Essingham the latter made a better fight than you would think against so strong an opponent. The rectory was homely and convenient in its old age, and Christina was greatly charmed with her own room, because it was small; and if the wall-paper was modern and conventional, and not to be read from the

very prettily. He was more amiable over the photography which he had taken up in partnership with Tiny; but his photographs were uncommonly bad. Yet this was another amusement in the country, where, however, Christina was most amused by the neighbors who called. These were friendly people, and they had all called on the Hollands the previous year. Half of them were clergymen, though the stranger who met them found this difficult to believe in some cases

old rector! His flock don't find him such a dear old man, either. They

lling you that,

edition in the village

there's old Mrs. Clapperton. Mrs. Clapperton's a Roman Catholic; so, if you please, she never gets her coals or blankets, and she's too proud to ask for them. That's a fact-and I tell you what, I'd like to expose your dear old man, Ruth! As for the village, if it's a specimen of your English v

, and with a smile that traveled from Tiny to Erskine. But Erskine did not return the smile. His eyes rested shrewd

ee her interesting herself in the local peasants; she was particularly glad that she did not give this interest its head, though as a matter of fact it never pulled. Christina was not the girl for interests that gallop and have not legs. Not the least of her attractions, in th

ntry a tight fit, like London," said Erskine

Excuse me, Erskine, but I feel this a good deal. Only this morning Ruth and I were blocked by a notice board just outside the wicket at the far end of the churchyard; we were think

friend Lord Manister. It's rather vexatious of them, I grant you; they can't want to have

ked Christina curiously. "Have they arri

mean the Dromards. And a ru

was; but Erskine told her; and, oddly enough, what he

ness to stand for the division. The corollary was irresistible, but so, it appears, was Countess Dromard's invitation, which few are believed to have declined-for those that did so made it known. Some disgust, however, was expressed at the kind of entertainment, which, after all, was to be nothing more than a garden party. But nearly all who were bidden accepted. The notice, too, was shorter than other people would have presumed to give; but other people were not the Dromards. The countess' invitation conveyed to a hundred country homes a joy that was none the less keen for a certain shame or shyness i

at receiving an invitation that embraced her "party." Yet she was able to toss the card across the breakfast table to Erskine, merely remarking, "Should we go?" And when Tiny at once stated that for her part she was n

within sight of their lodge. I'm no more keen than you are, Tiny, but that would look uncommon poor. It w

see, I have plenty to amuse me here," she added, with a smile that had been slow to come. "I'll go, of course, and

eyes and ears open. Then you knew Lord Manister in Melbourne. In any case, you oughtn't

yet to be amused. As for Lord Manister, he was well enough in Melbourne; he didn't give himself airs, and th

like; but we try to forget that when we're talking to him. We do our best to treat him as though he

aid Christina. "

ghed Erskine; "if so, you must

said Ruth, who saw nothing to laugh at, and seemed likely to

uggested Erskine. "Wil

for breakfast, which was for once a very good thing; and as for Ruth, it was merely her misfortune to have a near sight for the line div

what he thought of Manister, and what Manister had once called him behind his back, and what he would have done to Manister's eye had half as much been said to his face. His personal decision about the garden party was merely contemptuous. H

oo indolent to take either pains or care in a pursuit which essentially demands both. He had rather a good eye for a subject; he could arrange a picture with some judgment. That interested him, but the subsequent processes did not, and these invariably spoilt the plate. All his actions, however, suggested an underlying theory that what is worth doing is not necessarily worth doing well. This applied even to his games, about which Herbert was really keen; he played lawn tennis carelessly, though with a verve and energy somewhat surprising

o call aloud for a camera; and Herbert might have used his to some purpose, for a change, had he not forgotten to fill his slides with plates before leaving home. This discovery was not made until the bridge was in focus, and it put young Luttrell in the plight of a rifleman who has sighted the bull's-eye with an empty barrel. It was a question of returning to the rectory to load the slides or of giving up the photograph altogether. On another

o ripple her an invitation from the bridge to make herself comfortable with her book in its shade. There was no great need for shade, but the idea seemed sensible. With her hand on the book in her pocket, and her eyes hovering about the bri

ouds were thin and clean. There was a refreshing amount of wind; the tree tops beyond the bridge swayed a little against the sky; the focu

loth loosely over her head and round her neck. But suddenly she twitched it tighter. For first the sound of wheels had come to her ears. Then a dogcart had been pulled up on the bridge. And now on the focusing screen a figure wa