On the same afternoon that Wyn and his master went to see the water-lily
pond, Florrie Whittaker, seized with a fit of impatience, went off
without leave for a ramble in the wood.
She didn't think she could bear it much longer. There was no one to
chatter to, there was no one to chatter about. Mrs Lee's shop was far
more lively than Mrs Warren's parlour, and Carrie and Ada were much
more congenial than Grace Elton. Florence, lazy and sociable, had made
a strong effort to strike up a friendship with that pretty, pleasant
girl, but Grace, as Florence put it, was "_that_ particular," and so
often blushed and said, "Mother wouldn't like it," when Florence's
ill-trained tongue went its natural way, that Florence would have been
quite disgusted with her but for the thought that "Miss Geraldine"
wouldn't like it either. Florence had once begun to astonish Grace with
the history of how she had run after the boys down to the canal, and had
then stopped with an odd new feeling that she wouldn't like Miss
Geraldine to know she had done _that_. Should she write home and say
she would be a good girl, and go into any business Father and Aunt
Stroud wished, knowing that some sort of fun could be got out of life at
Rapley; or should she wait and let Aunt Charlotte "comb her down," as
she vigorously put it, till she thought her fit for a place at Ashcroft
or at "The Duke's?" That implied lilac cotton gowns in the week and a
neat bonnet on Sundays; but then she had heard of servants' dances and
parties, and the great household wouldn't be _very_ dull, surely.
Florence strolled on, thinking of one thing and another, swinging her
hat in her hand, and now and then snatching at a foxglove or a bit of
honeysuckle, till she suddenly became aware that she had lost her way.
She stopped and looked round her. Which little green track would take
her home? There was a good deal of undergrowth in the part of the wood
to which she had wandered, and, so far as she knew, she might be miles
from any outlet but the one by which she had come. The great trees
arched over her head, the green solemn light was all around her. The
tap of a woodpecker, the coo of a wood-pigeon or the whir of its wing,
the soft indefinite murmur of the leaves, were all the sounds that broke
the stillness of the August wood. If Florence had lost her way in a
town she would have asked it of a policeman with perfect composure. No
crowd of passengers, no bustle of life, would have impressed her in the
least, but this stillness and silence and loneliness struck on her
unaccustomed nerves, and an unaccountable fear _took_ possession of her.
What was there to be afraid of?
Snakes and water-rats were the only definite objects of terror that
occurred to her; and, as she had never seen a specimen of either of
these animals, they were not very present to her imagination. She did
not know what she was afraid of, but for the first time in her life she
knew what fear was. She stood quite still at the turn of the little
foot track, suddenly afraid to go to the right or the left; her heart
beat, her breath came in gasps, tears filled her eyes, and she burst out
crying like a baby--she, who never cried except from bad temper or
toothache, cried with fear.
Suddenly a rapid, light step ran down the track, and Geraldine
Cunningham, in her blue cotton frock, and a basket in her hand, came
into view.
"Why! Florence Whittaker! What's the matter?"
"I've--I've lost my way, Miss; I can't get out!" sobbed Florence, still
too much scared to be ashamed of her fright.
"Lost your way! Dear me, you're standing in the way back to Warren's
lodge. Come, don't cry, I'll show you."
"Oh, thank you, Miss," said Florence with unwonted meekness, and wiping
her eyes. Then, recovering a little, "I'm a great silly, but the trees
is so tall, and there ain't nobody about."
"Why, that's the beauty of it," said Geraldine. "One couldn't run about
in the wood if there _was_ anybody about. But it's just like the
garden, nobody ever comes here."
As Geraldine said this in her clear, outspoken voice, a tall man came
into view along the opposite track: he was dark and slight, and dressed
in a rough suit that might have belonged to anyone, gentle or simple, in
a country place.
"We'll go on," whispered Geraldine, straightening herself up, and taking
Florence by the hand.
The man came up to the two girls and looked at them rather keenly; then
he touched his hat, and said: "Excuse me, young ladies, can you tell me
the way out of the wood?"
"Yes," said Geraldine, with her straightforward gaze; "if you go
straight back and turn to the right, you'll come into the Raby road."
The stranger lingered a moment as if he would have liked to say more,
but contented himself with saying rather oddly, "Thank you--Miss," and
walking away.
"How very odd!" said Geraldine, "that there _should_ be a stranger in
the wood. Who can he be?"
"He was very civil in his speech," said Florrie. "Yes; but the wood's
private; he oughtn't to be here. Come along, Florence, we'll tell Mr
Warren we saw him."
The two girls talked a little as they walked on together, Florence
feeling suddenly shy, and as if she had nothing to say for herself.
Presently, as they came near the lodge, they met Wyn, looking hot and
hurried. "Oh, if you please, Miss Geraldine," he said, touching his
cap, "you haven't seen anything like a letter lying about in the
forest?"
"A letter in the forest? Why, Wyn, how ever could a letter get there?"
"I've lost one, ma'am, as a man gave me for Mr Edgar, and I'm going to
look for it again."
"Oh," said Geraldine, "that must be the man that spoke to us just now,
and asked his way. If you run right on, Wyn, you could catch him."
Wyn rushed off, but presently came back, overtaking the girls again as
they came up to the lodge.
"It wasn't the same man, Miss Geraldine," he said. "The man I met was a
stout party with a red beard, and this one was a deal thinner, and a
black-haired chap, too."
"Then there's two strange men in the wood," said Florence.
At this moment the keeper himself appeared, carrying his gun, and
saluting his young lady; and all three children began to tell their
stones. Warren took them very quietly. "I'll keep a look-out, ma'am,"
he said to Geraldine; "but strangers do pass through the wood. There's
artists about nowadays. They scare the birds dreadful. And, as for
you, Wyn, you'd best go and look for that there note first thing in the
morning: you'd no business to let it drop."
"I think the man who spoke to me looked like an artist," said Geraldine
as she went off.
"Florrie," said Wyn, as his father went into the house, "I don't think
that the man who gave me the letter for Mr Edgar _was_ one of the Raby
or Ashwood keepers or gardeners; he hadn't the cut somehow, and he'd
have known Mr Edgar was at the Hall. And he did stare _that_ hard at
me."
"So did the other man at us," said Florence.
"Was he a bird-catcher down from London, do you think?" said Wyn
astutely.
"No," said Florence, "he looked too much the gentleman."
"I'm sure he hadn't a red beard, aren't you?" said Wyn.
"Red beard? No--d'ye think I haven't eyes in my head? He'd a pointed
sort of black beard--same shape as Mr Cunningham's--only his is grey;
and black eyes, looking right at you, like the squire's do. But, dear
me, _I_ think a fellow creature or two's a great improvement in that
there lonesome wood. I'd sooner meet a man than a snake any day. And I
believe I'd sooner meet a snake than nothing among all them trees!"
"The trees don't set no traps nor springs," said Wyn, "and snakes aren't
common in our wood, and wriggles off pretty quick if you do meet with
one."
"Do you think your man was a poacher?" said Florence.
"Well, Florrie," said Wyn, "there's all sorts of people come after game
in these days. _I_ shall keep my eyes open. Hallo! here's mother
calling us in to supper."
In pursuance of this resolve, Wyn kept his eyes the next day open at
their widest, but neither red beard, black eyes, nor letter came into
his view, and the only thing he did see when he came disconsolately back
again was a great owl's nest that had apparently been pulled out of an
old hollow tree on the Ravenshurst side of the wood and thrown on the
ground. Wyn was sorry; he thought the owls would never nest there
again, and he would have had a chance next spring of getting a young one
for Mr Edgar.
"You're to take the pony round again this afternoon, Wyn," said his
mother when he got back, "and don't you be careless and drop any more
letters about, anyhow."
Florence was very much interested in the mysterious strangers in the
wood, and in the lost letter. She went for a stroll with Wyn before it
was time for him to fetch the pony, and they worked themselves up into a
state of excitement, and a general idea that their keen observation of
suspicious characters was highly to their credit. In the course of
their walk they met two of the under-keepers, and Wyn stopped and asked
them if they had seen anybody about. He described his man with the red
beard much as if he had been a giant, and Florence chimed in with her
suspicions of the dark man who had spoken to Miss Geraldine, till her
description of him would have befitted the villain in a melodrama. The
boy and girl succeeded in setting the young men on the look-out, and
preparing discomfort for the strangers if they were seen. Florence
found a chat with the young keepers a pleasant variety in her quiet
life, especially when it was so justifiable, and she lingered, talking
and joking, till Wyn pulled her skirts, and said Mr Edgar would be
ready.
"You see what we'll bring you, Miss," said one of the lads as he went
off.
"You ain't men enough to get them there poachers," said Florence.
"Ain't we though?" cried the other youth.
"They'd best not come our way in a hurry."
Florence laughed, and ran off after Wyn, who remarked virtuously:
"We've done our duty, I'm sure, in spreading about all we've noticed."
"Your father knows too," said Florrie.
"Yes," said Wyn, with a slight suspicion that his father could have
warned his own under-keepers for himself; "but father can't be
everywhere at once. They might rob Mr Edgar."
"Or frighten Miss Geraldine," said Florence, "so it's quite our duty to
give a warning."