as if she had been shot from a gun--her hair wild--her face
stricken with fear.

"I heard somebody yell out in the grounds--away down by the gate!"
she informed her mistress in a loud stage whisper which had a
curious note of pride in it, as if she were not too displeased at
seeing her doleful predictions so swiftly coming to pass.

Miss Cornelia took her by the shoulder--half-startled, half-dubious.

"What did they yell?"

"Just yelled a yell!"

"Lizzie!"

"I heard them!"

But she had cried "Wolf!" too often.

"You take a liver pill," said her mistress disgustedly, "and go to
bed."

Lizzie was about to protest both the verdict on her story and the
judgment on herself when the door in the hall was opened by Billy
to admit the new gardener. A handsome young fellow, in his late
twenties, he came two steps into the room and then stood there
respectfully with his cap in his hand, waiting for Miss Cornelia
to speak to him.