the miles of golden harvest stretching up the valley amongst the creeper-covered cottages, with patches of cultivation about them; the mills in the distance; the terraced vines putting forth their first rich growth on the hill-sides—the scene was fair enough."
"Then why could you not enjoy it?"
"Just as we hove-to, to watch the scratch eight, who should dash round the steam-launch, on which father and mother and the Dowlings with some Gumford people were standing, but a boat with that girl with a wide-brimmed hat—I'll confess rather becoming—at the tiller-ropes, and Travers pulling! He passed close beside us, shipped oars, and began to wipe his brow and smile and nod at us in his provoking manner, as though nothing ever could disconcert or shame him."
"Why should it?" interjected Maud.
"It spoiled the afternoon for me—the gold-and-green terraces became black—the sounds of merriment grated on my ears. I wished I was anywhere, and that Travers would take himself and his gardener's daughter out of my sight for ever." Hilda's eyes filled with tears as she spoke. Sitting down she began worrying to death a hyacinth.
"Sister dear," reasoned Maud, "he is a good old boy. Mr. Dowling says that the perfection to which he has brought the mechanical appliances on every hand has never been equalled."
"And a pretty pass he's bringing the social life to. You do not know who's who, here. Jack's as good as his master; and his daughter better than her mistress."
"But there is no master-and-servant relationship here. We have left all that behind us."
"Yes, and the good old times, when people knew their place, and good breeding went for something."
