The House with the Green Shutters

The frowsy chambermaid of the Red Lion had just finished washing the front door steps.

She rose from her stooping posture and, being of slovenly habit, flung the water from her pail straight out, without moving from where she stood.

The smooth round arch of the falling water glistened for a moment in mid-air.

John Gourlay, standing in front of his new house at the head of the brae, could hear the swash of it when it fell.

The morning was of perfect stillness.