As I leaned there the door opened and a little woman with sleeves rolled up appeared.  I mumbled an apology, but before I could articulate it, she held out a pair of scissors and said, “Perhaps, sir, you’d like to clip some of the flowers—­the roses over the door are best!”

Three children hung to her skirts, peeking, round faces from behind, and quite accidentally disclosing a very neat ankle.

I took the scissors and clipped three splendid Jacqueminots and said it was a beautiful day.  She agreed with me and added that she was just finishing her churning and if I’d wait a minute until the butter came, she’d give me a drink of buttermilk.

I waited without urging and got the buttermilk, and as the children had come out from hiding I was minded to give them a penny apiece.  Two coppers were all I could muster, so I gave the two boys each a penny and the little girl a shilling.  The mother protested that she had no change and that a bob was too much for a little girl like that, but I assumed a Big-Bonanza air and explained that I was from California where the smallest change is a dollar.

“Go thank the gentleman, Jane.”

“That’s right, Jane Austen, come here and thank me!”

“How did you know her name was Jane Austen—­Jane Austen Humphreys?”

“I didn’t know—­I only guessed.”

Then little Mrs. Humphreys ceased patting the butter and told me that she named her baby girl for Jane Austen, who used to live near here a long time ago.  Jane Austen was one of the greatest writers that ever lived—­the Rector said so.  The Reverend George Austen preached at Steventon for years and years, and I should go and see the church—­the same church where he preached and where Jane Austen used to go.  And anything I wanted to know about Jane Austen’s books the Rector could tell, for he was a wonderful learned man was the Rector—­“Kiss the gentleman, Jane.”

So I kissed Jane Austen’s round, rosy cheek and stroked the tousled heads of the boys by way of blessing, and started for Steventon to interview the Rector who was very wise.

And the clergyman who teaches his people the history of their neighborhood, and tells them of the excellent men and women who once lived thereabouts, is both wise and good.  And the present Rector at Steventon is both—­I’m sure of that.

* * * * *

It was a very happy family that lived in the Rectory at Steventon from Seventeen Hundred Seventy-five to Eighteen Hundred One.  There were five boys and two girls, and the younger girl’s name was Jane.  Between her and James, the oldest boy, lay a period of twelve years of three hundred and sixty-five days each, not to mention leap-years.

The boys were sent away to be educated, and when they came home at holiday time they brought presents for the mother and the girls, and there was great rejoicing.