e-land she had come through and beyond that a deep
forest.

"But I came over water ..." she murmured, and the Dame said gravely:

"I know. All who come here come over water. But they do not go back over
it."

Then her eyes grew wide with terror, not at the Dame's simple words, but
at something strange that seemed to lie behind them, and she gave her
hand to the Dame and walked quietly beside her to the orchard.

Here among the ripe fruit they sat down, the Dame busy at knitting,
herself with twisted, idle hands, and she fought away her fear as she
saw the stalwart men and the merry girls at work upon the clover-scented
piles.

"Why am I afraid? These are simple people working--they are real; they
talk and sing!" she said to herself, but her hands trembled and the high
sun seemed to her more like the unreal glory of the coloured windows in
some great church than the sun she knew.

Hardly was the Dame seated when two fine young boys ran toward her,
struggling with each other to reach her first.

"Oh, mother, I have learned my book!" cried one, and the other, "Oh,
dear mother, I can do the sum now!"

She kissed them fondly and told them she would hear them soon.

"And where are your sisters?" she asked them.

"Alda is among her doves and Grizel is coming to you for help with the
hood she is knitting," said one, and the other:

"But May Ellen is with Joan down in the nut-bins, and mother, they are
quarrelling about young Dyrk! Each will have it that he likes her best,
the foolish things!"

"Run, then, Roger, and bring them to me," said the Dame; "they are o'er
young for such quarrels. We will set them at the apples."

Now, before the Dame had gone once around her knitting she was called
from it ten times. Would the Dame have them bring in the russets first?
Would the Dame look to the new honey, for they dared not take off the
bees alone? Would the Dame hear a sum? Would the Dame say which of two
disputants had the right? Would the Dame see the miller? Would she take
the pay for the gray mare? And such like questionings that left her
alone not a moment.

She who sat idle plucked at the Dame's sleeve and spoke timidly to her.

"One could not work at some great matter, Dame, with so many calls aside
from it, I think."

"I think so, too, my dear," the Dame answered her, "and that is why I
will be knitting, which is no great matter from which to be called
aside."

She bit her lip, and thought, and spoke aga