The cottage from the window of which the Misses Williams had looked

out stands, and has stood for many a year, in that pleasant suburban

district which lies between Norwood, Anerley, and Forest Hill. Long

before there had been a thought of a township there, when the Metropolis

was still quite a distant thing, old Mr. Williams had inhabited "The

Brambles," as the little house was called, and had owned all the

fields about it. Six or eight such cottages scattered over a rolling

country-side were all the houses to be found there in the days when the

century was young. From afar, when the breeze came from the north, the

dull, low roar of the great city might be heard, like the breaking of

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the tide of life, while along the horizon might be seen the dim curtain

of smoke, the grim spray which that tide threw up.

Gradually, however, as the years passed, the City had thrown out a long brick-feeler here

and there, curving, extending, and coalescing, until at last the little

cottages had been gripped round by these red tentacles, and had been

absorbed to make room for the modern villa. Field by field the estate of

old Mr. Williams had been sold to the speculative builder, and had borne

rich crops of snug suburban dwellings, arranged in curving crescents and

tree-lined avenues. The father had passed away before his cottage was

entirely bricked round, but his two daughters, to whom the property had

descended, lived to see the last vestige of country taken from them.

For years they had clung to the one field which faced their windows, and it

was only after much argument and many heartburnings, that they had at

last consented that it should share the fate of the others. A broad road

was driven through their quiet domain, the quarter was re-named "The

Wilderness," and three square, staring, uncompromising villas began to

sprout up on the other side. With sore hearts, the two shy little old

maids watched their steady progress, and speculated as to what fashion

of neighbors chance would bring into the little nook which had always

been their own.

And at last they were all three finished. Wooden balconies and

overhanging eaves had been added to them, so that, in the language of

the advertisement, there were vacant three eligible Swiss-built villas,

with sixteen rooms, no basement, electric bells, hot and cold water, and

every modern convenience, including a common tennis lawn, to be let

at L100 a year, or L1,500 purchase. So tempting an offer did not long

remain open. Within a few weeks the card had vanished from number one,

and it was known that Admiral Hay Denver, V. C., C. B., with Mrs. Hay

Denver and their only son, were about to move into it. The news brought

peace to the hearts of the Williams sisters. They had lived with a

settled conviction that some wild impossible colony, some shouting,

singing family of madcaps, would break in upon their peace.




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