Bad beer is being brewed in East Devon. This is cider country, where apple trees grow and "men drink cider by the gallon." The bad beer comes from the firm of Messrs. Bungall and Tappitt, which is managed by the latter after the death of the former. Thus Anthony Trollope has given us a novel about beer. But of course it's not primarily about beer. _Rachel Ray_ is mainly a love story with plot lines familiar to readers of Trollope. The heir to the late Mr. Bungall's interest in the brewery, Luke Rowan, comes to town to assert his interests, meets a friend of the Tappitt sisters, Rachel Ray, and falls in love with her. Rachel is a rather typical Trollope heroine--spirited and bright, dwelling in an humble cottage with her timid widowed mother and a domineering older sister, also a widow. Rachel is attracted to Luke when he sits alone with her on a churchyard stile and gazes at the clouds, but she consents only by a silent nod to his proposal of marriage that comes soon after. Once having given her silent nod, however, she vows lifelong faithfulness, even though her mercurial fiancé may desert her. Luke Rowan is no paragon. His faults are declared to the reader in a rather desultory fashion, showing him to be only slightly more interesting than a stock representation of a young lover, which he really is. It is enough to raise the reader's concern that Rachel may be doomed to a fate similar to that of Lily Dale, the tragic, faithful heroine of _The Small House at Allington_. The story of Cinderella is retold with a few modifications, as the three Tappitt sisters invite Rachel, not unanimously, to a little party for the Rowans, which soon comes to be regarded as a ball. Rachel is persuaded to attend the ball only after the fairy godmother, in the form of Mrs. Butler Cornbury, invites Rachel to accompany her in her coach. Mrs. Tappitt is scandalized that Luke selects Rachel as his dancing partner of choice, and Cinderella is so overcome by it all that she persuades her fairy godmother to take her home two hours early. But to the amazement of all, the prince makes a visit to the humble cottage to see Rachel the next day. So here we have the love story. Now back to the beer: It was a sour and muddy stream that flowed from their vats; a beverage disagreeable to the palate, and very cold and uncomfortable to the stomach. Who drank it I could never learn. It was to be found at no respectable inn. . . . Nevertheless the brewery of Messrs. Bungall and Tappitt was kept going, and the large ugly square brick house in which the Tappitt family lived was warm and comfortable. There is something in the very name of beer that makes money.