\"and so it is,\" replied margaret, eagerly. \"all the other places in englandthat i hāve seen seem so hard and prosaic-looking, after the new forest.

helstone is like a village in a poem--in one of tennyson\"s poems. but iwon\"t try and describe it any more. you would only laugh at me if i toldyou what i think of it--what it really is.\"

\"indeed, i would not. but i see you are going to be very resolved. well,then, tell me that which i should like still better to know:what theparsonage is like.\"

\"oh, i can\"t describe my home. it is home, and i can\"t put its charm intowords.\"

\"i submit. you are rather severe to-night, margaret.

\"how?\" said she, turning her large soft eyes round full upon him. \"i didnot know i was.\"

\"why, because i made an unlucky remark, you will neither tell me whathelstone is like, nor will you say anything about your home, though ihāve told you how much i want to hear about both, the latter especially.\"

\"but indeed i cannot tell you about my own home. i don\"t quite think itis a thing to be talked about, unless you knew it.\"

\"well, then\"--pausing for a moment--\"tell me what you do there. hereyou read, or hāve lessons, or otherwise improve your mind, till themiddle of the day; take a walk before lunch, go a drive with your auntafter, and hāve some kind of engagement in the evening. there, now fillup your day at helstone. shall you ride, drive, or walk?\"

\"walk, decidedly. we hāve no horse, not even for papa. he walks to thevery extremity of his parish. the walks are so beautiful, it would be ashame to drive--almost a shame to ride.\"

\"shall you garden much? that, i believe, is a proper employment foryoung ladies in the country.\"

\"i don\"t know. i am afraid i shan\"t like such hard work.\"