she dashed out of the woods upon a tract of open country, the
distance before her was one sheet of grey rain and mist, and a
near peal of thunder that almost took Vixen off her feet,
showed what it would be to face such a storm, so mounted. And
now the raindrops began to patter near at hand.

But where to go? She had passed no place of refuge in the
woodland, and before her the storm hid every thing from sight.
So, after a second's thought, Wych Hazel turned and flew down
a side road a half a mile to the very door of a low stone
house, the first she had seen, sprang off her frightened pony,
and darted into the open hall door, leaving Dingee to find
shelter for himself and his charge. Then she began to wonder
where she was, and what the people would say to her; at first
she had been only glad to get off Vixen's back, the pony had
jumped and reared at such a rate for the last five minutes.

In the hall, which at a glance she saw was square and wide,
and felt was flagged with stone, stood a large packing case;
and about it and so busy with it that for a second they did
not observe her, were a girl and young man, the latter
knocking off boards and drawing out nails with his hammer,
while the other hovered over the work and watched it
absorbedly. In a moment more they both looked up. The hammer
went down and with a face of illumination Rollo came forward.

'Why here she is!' he exclaimed gayly, 'dropped into our
hands! and as wet as if she had fallen from the clouds
literally. Here Rosy, carry off this lady to your domains.
This is Primrose Maryland, Miss Kennedy.'