and noise kept at arm’s length--to see the difference between them. It was a difference which Mrs. Burchell for her part could not learn not to resent; though, indeed, but for the benefice bestowed by Miss Beresford, the Burchells must have had a much worse lot, or indeed perhaps never would have united their lots at all. The rector’s wife might have been as poor a creature as Miss Cherry, an old maid, and none of the seven Burchells might ever have come into being, but for the gift of that dusty Rectory from the ladies on the hill; but the rectorinn did not think of that. She was seated on the bench under the big oak, fanning herself with her handkerchief, while Agnes, her eldest daughter, and Dolly, her youngest, dutifully waited for her. They were going up to ‘The Hill’ for tea, which was a weekly ceremonial at least. ‘At all events, mamma, you must allow,’ said Agnes, ‘that it is better to live at the foot of the hill than at the top. You never could take any walks if you had this long pull up every time you went out.’ ‘They don’t have any long pull,’ said her mother; ‘they have their carriage. Ah, yes, they are very different from a poor clergyman’s wife, who has done her duty all her life without much reward for it. It is not those who deserve them most, or who have most need of them, who get the good things of this life, my dear. I don’t want to judge my neighbours; but Miss Charity Beresford I have heard all my life was not so very much better than a heathen. It may not go so far as that--but I have seen her, with my own eyes, laugh at your papa’s best sermons. I am afraid she is not far removed from the wicked that flourish like a green bay tree; yet look at her lot in life and your papa’s--a gentleman, too, and a clergyman with so many opportunities of doing good--and she in this fine place, a mere old woman!’ ‘If papa lived here should we all live here?’ said Dolly, whose small brain was confused by this suggestion; ‘then I should have the pony instead of Cara, and Miss Cherry would be my auntie! Oh, I wish papa lived here!’ ‘Hold your tongue,’ said her mother. ‘Cherry Beresford is a ridiculous old creature. Dear me, when I think of the time when she and I were girls together! Who would have thought that I should have been the one to toil up here in the sun, while _she_ drove in her carriage. Oh, yes, that’s very true, she was born the richest--but some girls have better luck than others! It was mine, you see, to marry a poor clergyman. Ah, well, I daresay Cherry would give her head to be in my place now!’ ‘And you in hers? Is that what you mean, mamma?’ ‘Me in hers! I’d like to be in her house, if that’s what you mean; but me a fanciful, discontented, soured old maid--me!’