"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the
cottage?"

"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park
gate. You must have seen it as you came down."

"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived
there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall
is a perfect wilderness."

Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into
his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and
her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession
at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The
idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance,
and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he
would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and
the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors
at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was
at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her
embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the
cottage himself.

"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do
anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it
would be too small, you know."

"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity
which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs.
Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should