“Listen,” she said. “If we could be towed to Sundial——”
“Is that as far,” said the stranger, “as you want to go?”
“If we can put up at the inn.”
The man appeared to consider.
“There’s nothing the matter with _The Doublet_,” he said slowly. “In
fact, the parlour was made to eat bread and honey in. It’s panelled with
old beech boards. And then there are hives in the garden, and they bake
their own bread. They’re very proud of their bathroom.”
“It sounds too good to be true,” said Audrey de Lisle.
“It is—very nearly; only, it’s rather rough. Primitive, I mean. They’re
a simple crowd at Sundial; they’ll speak of you as ‘the quality,’ and
you’ll certainly have to show them how to do those pretty white shoes.”
“I’ve done them myself the last two days,” said Audrey. She drew her
skirt close and regarded her little feet. “Don’t you think they’re
rather good?”
“They’re sweet,” said the stranger, gazing. “I didn’t know they made
them so small. Never mind. Where’s the car?”
“About quarter ’f a mile—that way.” She pointed a rosy finger. “How far
is Sundial?”
“Less than a mile from here. If you’ll let me dispose of this waggon,
I’ll come back and help. If you’ve got a spare can, I don’t think we’ll
need a horse.”
“But how——”
“If we fill up the vacuum tank,” said the stranger, “that should get us
a mile.”
Miss de Lisle reflected.
“Now why,” she said, “didn’t I think of that?”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps an appreciative Providence didn’t want you to spoil your
fingers. Perhaps . . .”
“My name’s de Lisle,” said Audrey suddenly. “Audrey de Lisle.”
“I’m known as John,” said the other. “Christopher John. You know. Wot
‘went to bed with his breeches on.’”
“Do be careful,” bubbled Audrey. “In a minute I shall really believe
that I have stumbled into fairy-land, and—and try to live up to it.”
“That should come easy to you,” said Christopher John. “I haven’t placed
you yet, but you’re in The Book. And now I must go to my labour. I shall
be through in ten minutes’ time. Please don’t start without me. Spanners
are slippery things.”
“I’ll wait for you here,” said Audrey.
As he walked back to the waggon she took her seat on the stile. . . .
Presently a whip cracked, and amid creak of wheels and cries of men the
waggon lumbered out of the meadow and swayed down the lane towards
Sundial, its load paying toll as it passed, till the green walls were
hung with sweet-smelling wisps and the road laid with a carpet fit for a
king.
At last the rumble faded, and a tall figure came stepping along the
sunflecked corridor.