To the girl, haunted still by the feeling that she could fly, almost drunk on the sweetness of the air that summer morning, it seemed funny that anyone should be like that.

Then for a second she saw her grandmother's face in repose, off guard, grim with anxious purpose, as if questioning its hold on life; and in one of those flashes of intuition which come to women--even when young and conquering like Barbara--she felt suddenly sorry, as though she had caught sight of the pale spectre never yet seen by her.

"Poor old dear," she thought; "what a pity to be old!" But they had entered the footpath crossing three long meadows which climbed up towards Mrs.Noel's.

It was so golden-sweet here amongst the million tiny saffron cups frosted with lingering dewshine; there was such flying glory in the limes and ash-trees; so delicate a scent from the late whins and may-flower; and, on every tree a greybird calling to be sorry was not possible! In the far corner of the first field a chestnut mare was standing, with ears pricked at some distant sound whose charm she alone perceived.

On viewing the intruders, she laid those ears back, and a little vicious star gleamed out at the corner of her eye.