"You care about places like Muircarrie. That is why," I answered,
feeling at once how much he understood. "I care for Muircarrie more than
for all the rest of the world. And I suppose you saw it in my face. I
dare say that the people who love that kind of life cannot help seeing
it there."

"Yes," he said, "it is in your eyes. It was what I saw and found myself
wondering about when I watched you in the train. It was really the moor
and the mist and the things you think are hidden in it."

"Did you watch me?" I asked. "I could not help watching you a little,
when you were so kind to the poor woman. I was afraid you would see me
and think me rude."

"It was the far look in your face I watched," he said. "If you will come
to tea under the big apple-tree I will tell you more about it."

"Indeed I will come," I answered. "Now we must go and sit among the
other people--those who don't care about Muircarrie at all."



CHAPTER V

I went to tea under the big apple-tree. It was very big and old and
wonderful. No wonder Mr. MacNairn and his mother loved it. Its great
branches spread out farther than I had ever seen the branches of an
apple-tree spread before. They were gnarled and knotted and beautiful
with age. Their shadows upon the grass were velvet, deep and soft. Such