Her delicate lips quivered a moment, as though at a too painful
memory--then she smiled.

"But one mother doe and her fawn got away--and I knew where they were
hiding, but I did not tell, of course--and now there are four of them,
or perhaps five. But they are very wild and keep in the copses, and fly
if they see anyone coming. They don't mind me, of course, but strangers.
The mother remembers that awful day, I expect."

"No doubt," said Cheiron; "and who is the 'Long Man' you spoke of as
having instigated this outrage?"

"He is the man of business, he was the bailiff once, but is a house
agent now in Applewood. And whenever he comes something has to go--we
all dread it. Last Michaelmas it was the Chippendale dining-room
chairs--"

"I know him then--I bought my cottage from him. I suppose all this is
necessary, because he seemed an honest fellow."

"Someone long ago made it necessary--it is not the Aunts' fault--" and
then Halcyone stopped abruptly and pointed to the beech avenue which
they were approaching now through the bracken, brown and crisp from last
year, with only here and there a green shoot showing.

"Queen Mab and the elves live there in May and early June," she said.
"They dance every afternoon as the sun sets, and sometimes in the dawn,
too, and the early morning. You can see them if you keep quite still."

"Naturally," said Cheiron.