It was a real satisfaction to get this mystery cleared up at last, as her clothes-line each Monday morning (when the weather was fine) had worried us greatly. When I say “us” I don’t mean myself necessarily, because I fear I hadn’t kept track of her washing as I ought to have done if I called myself a friend and neighbour. Most remiss of me, of course. Still, there it was; and I had no need now to creep along beside the hedge and take an inventory of her garments; neither need I fear for the safety of our hill. Fortunately, with us time is of no importance, the clock really doesn’t signify, even if it goes, which isn’t guaranteed; we divide the day into three meals, which are regulated by the three trains that puff up the valley, week-days only. Sunday is more of a problem, if you have children to be got off to Sunday-school; but as Mrs. Jasper has the one reliable clock up in our corner of the hills, her children set the pace; and when Maudie Jasper’s starched China silk Sunday frock is seen to be coming along the lane, accompanied by other little Jaspers in Lord Fauntleroy blue velvet suits and a bunch of everlasting pea, blush roses and southernwood for teacher, then the two or three other cottages in the vicinity hurry up and add their quota to the little procession that walks decorously (so long as it is in sight of maternal eyes) down the hillside trail to the Sunday-school in the valley. Of course awkward mistakes sometimes happen, as they do in the best of well-regulated families. It was so on the occasion of the first introduction of Daylight Saving. Naturally the weekly newspaper and the vicar and the schoolmaster, and everybody, had explained to everybody else that on a certain Saturday night the clock must be put forward one hour, etc. We are anything but behind the times on our hills, and no clocks in the whole of the British Isles were set forward an hour more eagerly than ours were; only, obviously, if you haven’t a clock that goes, you can’t set it forward; therefore our little corner looked feverishly in the direction of the Jasper clock, and frequently reminded the Jaspers of their national duty. To make quite sure that the important rite wasn’t overlooked, Mrs. Jasper put the hands of the clock on an hour when first she got up on the Saturday morning, instead of last thing at night, as the authorities had decreed. An hour more or less made no difference to the family, seeing that it was Saturday and no school to be thought of. Meals came as a matter of course, and quite irrespective of clocks. Mrs. Jasper knew that if she didn’t see to the thing no one else would. So she got it off her mind nice and early.