The cottages were scattered far apart, dotted here and there, one or two down in a narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green wall of the hills.

Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree or hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet elevated fields.

A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring red brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible miles away.
An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half a mile from the highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army might have ravaged the country and never found it.

How many, many miles of weary walking such rounds as these required! Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it was wonderful with what skill the cottage women especially--the men being often away at work--adapted themselves to the new _regime_.

Each time they told a more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe.