"Yes, they are thick! But stone too has its way of rotting. Westminster palace is wearing through, flake by flake. The weather will be at the lords before long." "That's what Valentine would call a sign of the times. I say, what a radical he is, Chrissy!--Look! the old place is just like an empty egg-shell! I know, if it had been mine, I wouldn't have let it come to that!" "You say so because it never was yours: if it had been, you would know how uncomfortable it was!" "I should like to know," said Mercy, after a little pause, during which they stood looking at the ruin, "whether the owners leave such places because they get fastidious and want better, or because they are too poor to keep them up! At all events a man must be poor to SELL the house that belonged to his ancestors!--It must be miserable to grow poor after being used to plenty!--I wonder whose is the old place!" "Oh, the governor's, I suppose! He has all hereabout for miles." "I hope it is ours! I SHOULD like to build it up again! I would live in it myself!" "I'm afraid the governor won't advance your share for that purpose!" "I love old things!" said Mercy. "I believe you take your old doll to bed with you yet!" rejoined Christina. "I am different to you!" she continued, with Frenchified grammar; "I like things as new as ever I can have them!" "I like new things well enough, Chrissy--you know I do! It is natural. The earth herself has new clothes once a year. It is but once a year, I grant!" "Often enough for an old granny like her!" "Look what a pretty cottage!--down there, half-way to the burn! It's like an English cottage! Those we saw as we came along were either like a piece of the earth, or so white as to look ghastly! This one looks neat and comfortable, and has trees about it!"