"Glorious country!" said Edward. "I love it. The South doesn't seem to me to be country at all--just a huge park. One is afraid to walk on the grass. But here there is room and freedom. One understands why the North is Liberal." "It is too big for me," replied Mendel. "But then I can't get used to the country. I'm not myself in it. I feel in it as though I were on the edge of the world and in danger of falling off. Yes. The country seems dangerous to me, and I could never walk along a road at night." "How odd that is!" laughed Edward. "If I am ever afraid it is in the town. The vast masses of people do really terrify me sometimes, when I think of governing them all." "They can look after themselves," said Mendel simply. Over the shoulder of the hill they came on a grey stone house with a walled garden. Edward turned in at the gate, flicked his horse into a trot up the steep drive, and drew up by the front door, in which was standing a dainty little lady in a mauve cotton gown and a wide Leghorn straw hat. "Here he is, my dear!" said Edward. "My wife, Kühler." "I'm so glad you could come," said the little lady. "My husband has told me so much about you." "Not half what he could tell if he only knew," thought Mendel. "I'm afraid it is a very long way for you to come," she said, leading him into the house while Edward drove round to the stables. "It is very good of you. We are very quiet here, but you can do just as you like, and I shall always be ready for you when you want me." She had a very charming voice that seemed to bubble with happiness, and she had the air of being surprised at herself for being so happy. The house was pervaded with her atmosphere, fragrant and good, and every corner seemed to be full of surprise, every piece of furniture looked astonished at finding itself in its place--so perfectly in its place. This fragrant perfection was the more amazing as the outside of the house was more than a little grim, and the hill behind it was dark and ominous, while several of the trees were blasted and chapped with the wind. Mendel had never seen such a house, and when Edward took him up to his room he almost wept with delight at the comfort and sweetness of it all. There was a fire burning in the grate, by the side of which was a huge easy chair. Flowered chintz curtains were drawn across the windows, and the same gay chintz covered the bed. On the wash-hand-stand was a shining brass can of hot water. There were books by the bedside, the carpet was of a thick pile, and the furniture was old and exquisite. . . . He was filled with delight and gratitude. "Yes," he thought, "England is best! Comfortable England." And when Edward showed him the big tiled bathroom he had a shiver of dismay, and thought what a dirty, uncouth fellow he was to come among these exquisite people. * * * * *