Of that mongrel country life which exists in the suburbs of great towns, and which has given rise to various sayings concerning home-laid eggs at a shilling a-piece, carrots at half-a-guinea the bunch, butter half-a-crown a pound, and milk eighteen-pence a quart, Heather had no experience. She only knew that her father’s glebe lands and Arthur’s farm had enabled their respective families to make both ends meet, without pinching in the parlour, or an over-strict and painful economy in the kitchen; and she dreaded entering on what was to her an utterly untried career—that of managing a town establishment, and entering every item, from cream to laundry work, in her formerly easily-kept housekeeping book. All these matters she had discussed, after a woman’s diffuse fashion, with Agnes and Mrs. Piggott; and Agnes and Mrs. Piggott had both agreed that much might still be forwarded from Berrie Down; that it would only be Ned’s time and the pony’s to run over to Palinsbridge with a weekly hamper for town; “and besides, you will be often down yourself, I hope, Heather,” added Agnes; but Heather shook her head. “The expense,” she said, “will be more than I should like to incur frequently. I am afraid, although a thousand a year sounds a great deal, it will not go very far in London, more especially in the style Arthur talks of living.” “But his shares, you know, Heather?” suggested Agnes, hopefully. “Yes, I had forgotten them,” was the reply, evidently intended to be affirmative of the girl’s cheerful views, but failing of its purpose, because Mrs. Dudley’s tone implied that, now she did remember the shares, her spirits were not unduly raised. She had heard too many revelations from Mrs. Black to be mightily exalted at the idea of being even indirectly connected with a company. That lady had favoured her with too many descriptions of how they had “up and down,” “seeing and sawing,” for Mrs. Dudley’s heart to flutter at the prospect of wealth suddenly spread out before them. “If it was here to-day, it was gone to-morrow,” Mrs. Black had sadly lamented; “and, while it was here, we had nothing but anxiety; and when it was there, we had a trouble to keep the wolf from the door. I am sure, my dear, what I have gone through would make a history.” Heather Dudley not having the slightest desire to go through experiences sufficiently varied and unpleasant to justify any one compiling a history concerning her, would, had the choice been offered, decidedly have preferred remaining where there was no chance of such ups and downs as Mrs. Black mentioned occurring in her life. The choice, however, not being offered, she had at last no alternative left but to bid adieu to Berrie Down; and, accompanied by Miss Hope, who kindly came up from Tunbridge Wells to “see the last” of her old favourite drive over to Palinsbridge, whence she travelled by one of the afternoon trains to London.