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end of the village, fortunately—and everything belonging to them is on the largest scale. The ladies of the family are large, tall, monumental almost in feature, and their manners are full of a calm serenity; you know exactly what they are going to say long before they speak. Their carriages and horses are immensely large, their roses are as big as cabbages, their cabbages are a morning’s walk to get round—everything is palatial about them. I know they always dress for dinner, though nobody has told me so. They all do their hair tremendously in the fashion, and their conversation almost drives you to disbelieve that two and two make four, they insist upon it so. The neighbours all bow down before them, and they are the glass of fashion and the mould of form in Green Street. So I thought we had better call there first, and this afternoon I said to Clare, ‘Let’s go and see the Granbys.’

“‘Well, dear, I dare say you had better return their call, but I don‘t feel well enough to go out just now. My head has just been splitting ever since lunch. I saw you didn’t notice it, so I said nothing. I do hate to give in always.’

“‘Won’t you go and lie down then, Clare, just for half an hour?’

“‘I only wish I could lie down, even for half an hour. I always envy people who can do that.