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"He never mentioned, miss."

(Mr. Bobby must have been expansive, for they were married twenty



years.)

"There is always Victoria or Albert," I said tentatively, as I wiped



my brushes.

"Yes, miss, but with all respect to her Majesty, them names give me



a turn when I see them on the gates, I am that sick of them."

"True. Can we call it anything that will suggest its situation? Is



there a Hill Crest?"

"Yes, miss, there is 'Ill Crest, 'Ill Top, 'Ill View, 'Ill Side,



'Ill End, H'under 'Ill, 'Ill Bank, and 'Ill Terrace."

"I should think that would do for Hill."



"Thank you, miss. 'Ow would 'The 'Edge' do, miss?"

"But we have no hedge." (She shall not have anything with an h in



it, if I can help it.)

"No, miss, but I thought I might set out a bit, if worst come to



worst."

"And wait three or four years before people would know why the



cottage was named? Oh no, Mrs. Bobby."

"Thank you, miss."



"We might have something quite out of the common, like 'Providence

Cottage,' down the bank. I don't know why Mrs. Jones calls it



Providence Cottage, unless she thinks it's a providence that she has

one at all; or because, as it's just on the edge of the hill, she



thinks it's a providence that it hasn't blown off. How would you

like 'Peace' or 'Rest' Cottage?"



"Begging your pardon, miss, it's neither peace nor rest I gets in it

these days, with a twenty-five pound debt 'anging over me, and three



children to feed and clothe."

"I fear we are not very clever, Mrs. Bobby, or we should hit upon



the right thing with less trouble. I know what I will do: I will

go down in the road and look at the place for a long time from the



outside, and try to think what it suggests to me."

"Thank you, miss; and I'm sure I'm grateful for all the trouble you



are taking with my small affairs."

Down I went, and leaned over the wicket-gate, gazing at the unnamed



cottage. The brick pathway was scrubbed as clean as a penny, and

the stone step and the floor of the little kitchen as well. The



garden was a maze of fragrant bloom, with never a weed in sight.

The fowl cackled cheerily still, adding insult to injury, the pet



sheep munched grass contentedly, and the canaries sang in their

cages under the vines. Mrs. Bobby settled herself on the porch with



a pan of peas in her neat gingham lap, and all at once I cried:-

"'Comfort Cottage'! It is the very essence of comfort, Mrs. Bobby,



even if there is not absolute peace or rest. Let me paint the

signboard for you this very day."



Mrs. Bobby was most complacent over the name. She had the greatest

confidence in my judgment, and the characterisation pleased her



housewifely pride, so much so that she flushed with pleasure as she

said that if she 'ad 'er 'ealth she thought she could keep the place



looking so that the passers-by would easily h'understand the name.

Chapter XXIII. Tea served here.



It was some days after the naming of the cottage that Mrs. Bobby

admitted me into her financial secrets, and explained the



difficulties that threatened her peace of mind. She still has

twenty-five pounds to pay before Comfort Cottage is really her own.



With her cow and her vegetable garden, to say nothing of her

procrastinating fowl, she manages to eke out a frugalexistence, now



that her eldest son is in a blacksmith's shop at Worcester, and is

sending her part of his weekly savings. But it has been a poor



season for canaries, and a still poorer one for lodgers; for people

in these degenerate days prefer to be nearer the hotels and the mild



gaieties of the larger settlements. It is all very well so long as

I remain with her, and she wishes fervently that that may be for



ever; for never, she says, eloquently, never in all her Cheltenham

and Belvern experience, has she encountered such a jewel of a lodger



as her dear Miss 'Amilton, so little trouble, and always a bit of

praise for her plain cooking, and a pleasant word for the children,



to whom most lodgers object, and such an interest in the cow and the

fowl and the garden and the canaries, and such kindness in painting



the name of the cottage, so that it is the finest thing in the

village, and nobody can get past the 'ouse without stopping to gape



at it! But when her American lodger leaves her, she asks,--and who

is she that can expect to keep a beautiful young lady who will be



naming her own cottage and painting signboards for herself before

long, likely?--but when her American lodger is gone, how is she,






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