"You would certainly be drowned," said Halcyone. "In this place the lake
is quite ten inches deep!"

Cora Lutworth was taking in every bit of her with her clever, kindly
eyes.

"What a sweet, distinguished violet-under-the-mossy-bank pet of a girl!"
she was saying to herself. "No wonder Mr. Derringham goes to see his
Professor! How mad Cis would be! I shan't tell her." And aloud she said:

"You cannot imagine how I am longing to get a nearer peep of your
beautiful old house. Do we get a chance further on?"

"No," said Halcyone. "I am so sorry. You branch further off once you
have passed the closed gate. It was very stupid--the La Sarthe quarreled
with the Wendovers a hundred years ago, and it was all closed up then,
and these wicked spikes put."

"It is too tantalizing. But won't you walk with us to where we have to
part?" Miss Lutworth said, while John Derringham had a sudden longing to
turn back and carefully remove certain bits of iron and brick he wot of,
and ask this nymph of the woods to take him on to their tree, and tell
him more stories about Jason and Medea in that exquisitely refined voice
of hers, as she had done once before, long ago. But even though he might
not have this joy, he got rather a fine pleasure out of the fact of
sharing the secret of the crossing with her, and he had the satisfaction
of meeting her soft eyes in one lightning comprehending glance.

They chatted on about the view and the beauties of the neighborhood, and
they all laughed often at some sally of Cora's--no one could resist her