it was as if it contained just one happy family with common interests
and pursuits. What happened in the house was a more private matter, and
Mrs Quantock, for instance, would never look from the rising ground at
the end of her garden into Georgie's dining-room or, if she did she
would never tell anyone how many places were laid at table on that
particular day when she had asked if he could give her lunch, and he
had replied that to his great regret his table was full. But nobody
could help seeing into gardens from back windows: the "view" belonged
to everybody.

Georgie had had wonderful views.

"That very day," he said, "soon after lunch, I was looking for a letter
I thought I had left in my bedroom, and happening to glance out, I saw
the Indian sitting under Mrs Quantock's pear-tree. He was swaying a
little backwards and forwards."

"The brandy!" said Lucia excitedly. "He has his meals in his own room."

"No, _amica_, it was not the brandy. In fact I don't suppose the
brandy had gone to Mrs Quantock's then, for he did not take it from
Rush's, but asked that it should be sent...." He paused a moment--"Or
did he take it away? I declare I can't remember. But anyhow when he
swayed backwards and forwards, he wasn't drunk, for presently he stood
on one leg, and crooked the other behind it, and remained there with
his hands up, as if he was praying, for quite a long time without
swaying at all. So he couldn't have been tipsy. And then he sat down
again, and took off his slippers, and held his toes with one hand,
while his legs were quite straight out, and put his other hand round
behind his head, and grasped his other ear with it. I tried to do it on