It was the end of August.

The little lawn at Slumberleigh Rectory was parched and brown.

The glebe beyond was brown; so was the field beyond that.

The thirsty road was ash-white between its gray hedge-rows.

It was hotter in the open air than in the house, but Ruth had brought her books out into the garden all the same, and had made a conscientious effort to read under the chestnut-tree.
For under the same roof with Mrs.Alwynn she had soon learned that application or study of any kind was an impossibility.