spot in the grass where there was a sprinkling of robin's
feathers. Wych Hazel stopped short looking at them, smiling to
herself, then suddenly stopped and chose out three or four;
and went back with quick steps to the mill.

Bread and tea were had in the open air, with the seasoning of
the June morning. The stage coach rumbled off by the road it
had come, bearing with it the two countrywomen, and leaving a
pile of baggage for Chickaree. The miller came down and set
his mill agoing, excusing himself to his guests by saying that
there was a good lot of corn to be ground and the people would
be along for it. So the mill became no longer a place of rest,
and Miss Hazel and her guardian were driven out into the woods
by the rumble and dust and jar of machinery. Do what they
would, it was a long morning to twelve o'clock; when the mill
ceased its rumble and the miller went home to his dinner, and
the weary and warm loiterers came back to the shade of the
mill floor. Then the sound of wheels was heard at last; the
first that had broken the solitude that day; and presently at
the mill door Rollo presented himself, looking as if sunshine
agreed with him. He shook hands with Mr. Falkirk, but gave
Wych Hazel his old stately salutation.

'I could not come sooner,' he said. 'I did my best; but it is
thirty miles instead of twenty-five. How was the night?'

'Sadly oblivious and uneventful!'

'Mine wasn't! for I was getting dinner for you in my dreams
all night long. Being dependent on other people's resources,