volved in bushes as well as trees, giving to the spot
the character rather of a coppice than a wood. Perceiving that she had
gone far enough, Ethelberta turned back by a path which at this point
intersected that by which she had approached, and promised a more direct
return towards the Court. She had not gone many steps among the hazels,
which here formed a perfect thicket, when she observed a belt of holly-
bushes in their midst; towards the outskirts of these an opening on her
left hand directly led, thence winding round into a clear space of
greensward, which they completely enclosed. On this isolated and mewed-
up bit of lawn stood a timber-built cottage, having ornamental
barge-boards, balconettes, and porch. It was an erection interesting
enough as an experiment, and grand as a toy, but as a building
contemptible.

A blue gauze of smoke floated over the chimney, as if somebody was living
there; round towards the side some empty hen-coops were piled away; while
under the hollies were divers frameworks of wire netting and sticks,
showing that birds were kept here at some seasons of the year.

Being lady of all she surveyed, Ethelberta crossed the leafy sward, and
knocked at the door. She was interested in knowing the purpose of the
peculiar little edifice.

The door was opened by a woman wearing a clean apron upon a not very
clean gown. Ethelberta asked who lived in so pretty a place.

'Miss Gruchette,' the servant replied. 'But she is not here now.'

'Does she live here alone?'

'Yes--excepting myself and a fellow-servant.'

'Oh.'

'She lives here to attend to the pheasants and poultry, because she is so
clever in managing them. They are brought here from the keeper's over
the hill. Her father was a fancier.'

'Miss Gruchette attends to the birds, and two servants attend to Miss
Gruchette?'

'Well, to tell the truth, m'm, the servants do almost all of it. Still,
that's what Miss Gruchette is here for. Would you like to see the house?
It is pretty.' The woman spoke with hesitation, as if in doubt between
the desire of earning a shilling and the fear that Ethelberta was not a
stranger. That Ethelberta was Lady Mountclere she plainly did not dream.

'I fear I can scarcely stay long enough; yet I will just look in,' said
Ethelberta. And as soon as they had crossed the threshold she was glad
of having done so.

The cottage internally may be described as a sort of boudoir extracted
from the b