"It's rather a pity to cut into the hills and bank up the meadows in this way, isn't it?" he asked.
"And to disturb my school with so much hammering," Lucy rejoined; "when the trains come I must retreat."
"None too soon," said Mrs. Hopeton. "You are not strong, Lucy, and the care of a school is too much for you."
Elwood thanked her with a look, before he knew what he was about.
"After all," said Joseph, "why shouldn't nature be cut up? I suppose everything was given up to us to use, and the more profit the better the use, seems to be the rule of the world. 'Beauty grows out of Use,' you know."
His tone was sharp and cynical, and grated unpleasantly on Lucy's sensitive ear.
"I believe it is a rule in art," said Mrs. Hopeton, "that mere ornament, for ornament's sake, is not allowed. It must always seem to answer some purpose, to have a necessity for its existence. But, on the other hand, what is necessary should be beautiful, if possible."
"A loaf of bread, for instance," suggested Elwood.
They all laughed at this illustration, and the conversation took a lighter turn. By this time they had entered the narrower part of the valley, and on passing around a sharp curve of the track found themselves face to face with Philip and Madeline Held.
If Mrs. Hopeton's heart beat more rapidly at the unexpected meeting, she preserved her cold, composed bearing. Madeline, bright and joyous, was the unconscious agent of unconstraint, in whose presence each of the others felt immediately free.