On this bright June morning it certainly did look very bright and picturesque, with its old-fashioned red-brick houses and its wide, clean main street, upon which all the best shops opened. Most of these stood under an old-fashioned arcade, which was a capital place of resort for the ladies of the place, who could meet there in all weathers to shop or to gossip, and where everybody was quite sure to meet everybody else in the course of a few hours, and to hear all the news of the neighbourhood. Above the arcade, the houses rose more closely together, for the upper stories overhung the lower ones, and the quaint frontages were adorned by crossway beams of wood let into the brickwork, as well as by odd carved figures, little frail balconies, heavy looking gables and twisted chimneys. Very cheerful and picturesque was the appearance of the High Street of Whitbury, and it might be taken as a good type of the characteristics of its inhabitants, who were for the most part quaint old-fashioned people, and full of cheerful kindliness. After the region of shops was passed, the street widened gradually, and finally lost itself in a great square, in the centre of which stood a fountain. Opposite to the entrance of the High Street stood the Town Hall, which occupied one side of the square; and to the right was a fine old Gothic church, called by the inhabitants of Whitbury the ‘Minster,’ and the square was designated Minster Square. The two remaining sides were taken up by some solid old-fashioned red-brick houses, all of them covered with ivy and roses and clematis; and in these houses dwelt the _élite_ of Whitbury—a ‘set’ who formed a kind of miniature commune, and ruled with undisputed sway over the interests of the place. Next to the church was the Rectory, in which the clergyman and his wife passed their quiet, useful lives, and were content to be beloved by their flock without seeking popularity or fame in other quarters. The doctors’ house came next. Old Mr. Blake and his son divided the practice, and lived happily together under one roof, whilst the children of the younger man grew up around them, and were in the eyes of their grandfather the most remarkable children under the sun. Mr. Graves, the lawyer and general referee of the place, lived next to the doctor, and a retired sea-captain of good family next to him. But the largest house in the square was one which stood opposite the church, and was surrounded by a large garden, in which it stood, as it were, aloof from its neighbours, in stately superiority. This house was occupied by Miss Marjory Descarte, second and only surviving daughter of the late Thomas Descarte, Esquire, who had been the most wealthy and respected man in Whitbury so long as he lived, and whose memory was still held in high repute by the whole community of the little town.