In the midst of a green, fertile valley stood the lovely village of Knutsford.

It had no regular street; there were a few cottages, a few farm houses, a few little villas, one grand mansion, three or four shops, and quiet homesteads with thatched roofs and eaves of straw.
The prettiest and most compact little farm in the village was the one where Stephen Thorne and his wife dwelt.

It was called the elms, a long avenue of elms leading to the little house and skirting the broad green meadows.

It was at a short distance from the village, so quiet, so tranquil, that, living there, one seemed out of the world.
Stephen Thorne and his wife were not rich.

In spite of Lady Earle's bounty, it was hard for them at times to make both ends meet.