Joyce shivered and stepped down to the limb below, but paused in her descent to watch a peddler going down the road with a pack on his back.
"Oh, he is stopping at the gate with the big scissors!" she cried, so interested that she spoke aloud.

"I must wait to see if it opens." There was something mysterious about that gate across the road.

Like Monsieur Greville's, it was plain and solid, reaching as high as the wall.

Only the lime-trees and the second story windows of the house could be seen above it.

On the top it bore an iron medallion, on which was fastened a huge pair of scissors.