In the night I heard Æsop get up from his corner and growl; I heard it
through my sleep, but I was dreaming just then of shooting, the growl of
the dog fitted into the dream, and it did not wake me, quite. When I
stepped out of the hut next morning there were tracks in the grass of a
pair of human feet; someone had been there--had gone first to one of my
windows, then to the other. The tracks were lost again down on the road.
She came towards me with hot cheeks, with a face all beaming.
“Have you been waiting?” she said. “I was afraid you would have to
wait.”