Parting these, she peered through them, to judge the distance between her and the pool and see if any track led down to it.

A something flashed in her eyes, and she drew back.
Then, peering forward again, she let a faint cry escape her.
On the pebbly bank beside the pool stood a man--Dr.Hansombody--in regimentals.

In one hand he held a razor (this it was that had flashed so brightly in the sunlight), in the other her lost stocking.
Apparently he had been shaving, kneeling beside the pool and using it for a mirror; for one half of his face was yet lathered, and his haversack lay open on the stones by the water's edge beside his shako and a tin cup under which he had lit a small spirit-lamp; and doubtless, while he knelt, the stream had swept Miss Marty's stocking down to him.

He was studying it in bewilderment; which changed to glad surprise as he caught sight of her, aloft between the hazels.
"Hallo!" he challenged.

"A happy month to you!" "Oh, please!" Miss Marty covered her face.
"I'll spread it out to dry on the stones here." "Please give it back to me.