The times dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1903-1914, 1907-11-06
CHATTER I.-continued.

Lizzie. thinking of II. thought OF her
wrecked home, of the storm OF grief
and horror that had swept over her
happy childhood's home.
She remained at the seaside school
till she was eighteen. till she was q
pretty and immensely erudite girl, with
many rare accomplishments as we'll as
kind heart. with really charming
manners and only one bad secret habit
not perhaps with girls of
her age-the habit of day-dreaming.
1t CHANGED that on her last journey
from school an old acquaintance was in
the RAIN. AT a place where the train
stopped just outside of Easthourne. q
militia camp had broken up; the plat
form was full OF soldfers-officers and
their men, in uniform. An this tall
I~sun-burnt officer saying good-by to
the others was Mr.. Jack Vincent. She
looked at him. and for a moment was
in doubt then she was quite sure. lie
passed the carriage window and glanc-
ed in at her, but he did not recognize
lier-did not remember her. Even at
Medford station, where they were both
pointing out their luggage to the port
ers, he failed to recognize his ancient
playmate.
She blushed family as she realized
that he had altogether forgotten her.
But then she blushed deeply as she
thought that no doubt he had also for
gotten her most lmpudent proposal.
Thank goodness for that. 1t had been
"a dreadful thing to say-even for a
child of fourteen.
CHAPTER II.
viewed from a commercial stand
point. the town OF Medford was slug
g1sh as It's little winding river and
sleepy as the gentle southern air.
Though SO near London-only twenty.
SIX miles by the railway, which did mol
go stralght-there was about it moth
Ing of the hurry. push, n bounce OF
London. a b~lack-coated throng came
out of 1T every morning. n as clerks.
etc, went to work in London-to spend
their energy there; and in the evening
they came back to Medford-to sleep. a
urowsy torpor seemed to hang over its
trade and its business life, although.
in fact, the place was not unprosperous.
Rents were not low and rates We're
very high yet people paid both con.
|tentedly. There was no staple industry,
but the success of such shops as Sell
Kinks, the big drnper's in High Street,
indicated considerable buying power;
the brewery down by the river was a
thriving concerns; and, on the flats be-
yond, the concrete works n the two
or three brick and tile yards kept
hundreds OF hands employed, n sent
away large consignments of their stuff
both by water and by rail.
Socially considered, the town divided
1tself-after the name Of so many
English country towns-into those who
lived on the hill and those who lived
on the low ground. Coming from the
railway to the river bridge, you passed
through the worst n the oldest
quarter. Here We're narrow streets,
lanes and courts; backways and blind
alleys; dirty wives in doorways, and
dirty children In the gutter.
If you paused on the bridge, you
could see on your right brewery build
lngs. warehouses, and modern work
mems dwelllngs:lon yourl left, the backs
Of the houses In High Street, sheds,
store-places, etc, with here there
an old garden and a Shiny wallsa nd
steps above the slow stream. Thence
onward, through Bridge Street, you
went UP hill, On your left lay High
street, the Market. the White Heart,
tho Town Hall. etc. On your right
there were at first cottages. then com
mon little villas, then terraces and
parades and crescents of superior
ytIlas-the new red-brick area of re-
s%pectability, If not of real gentility,
from which came forth the black-coat-
ed London toilers. Then. on either
hand, were larger, more imposing villas
ana houses, with fussy architecture
ornaments, pepper-pot lturrets, cupolas,
loggtas, large gates n miniature
carriage sweeps. Here resided gentry,
Tllen, ina moment, you had the wide
meadows behind Hill Rise-the Lawn
TENNIS Crouuet. and Archery Club, It's
smooth lawns, basket chairs and
matched cottage II tiled Yerandah,
Then, with a sharp turn to the
right, you We're In Hill Rise
itself--ten noble detached houses
Lon either side, and at the top
Tor the walls, gate, and trees of Hill
House, withholding beyond it butopen
country; the stretching common land