"Pines for you, pines for you, maid, though Charles does his best by
her. But it is as though she had taken a vow to let down no milk
till you come again. Rack and ruin, rack and ruin!"

And the old man retreated as he had come, muttering "Rack and ruin!"
the length of the hedge.

The maids then set about preparing breakfast, which was simplicity
itself, being bread and apples than which no breakfast could be
sweeter. There was a loaf for each maid and one over for Gillian,
which they set upon the wall of the Well-House, taking away
yesterday's loaf untouched and stale.

"Does she never eat?" asked Martin.

"She has scarcely broken bread in six months," said Joscelyn, "and
what she lives on besides her thoughts we do not know."

"Thoughts are a fast or a feast according to their nature," said
Martin, "so let us feed the ducks, who have none."

They broke the stale bread into fragments, and when the ducks had
made a meal, returned to their own; and of two loaves made seven
parts, that Martin might have his share, and to this they added
apples according to their fancies, red or russet, green or golden.

After breakfast, at Martin's suggestion, they made little boats of
twigs and leaves and sailed them on the duckpond, where they met
with many adventures and calamities from driftweed, small breezes,