He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. It’s true. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. “What, you don’t think that you can afford it? Lucy, with your musical talent, you’ll get a full ride. "Enschede!" he called. Annabel entered.
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