ves! How would Mabel and Aldred
like to come with us to Holt's farm? The pater wants us to take a
message there. It's only three miles away, and Aldred, at any rate,
hasn't seen the river."

"I've never been to Holt's farm either," said Mabel "I haven't even
crossed the ferry."

"It would be better fun than tennis," agreed Piers. "Our court seems a
very poor affair after the one at the Hall; it's hardly worth playing
on."

Both Mabel and Aldred felt disposed for a walk. It was a fresh and
bright afternoon, and the prospect of seeing a new part of the
neighbourhood was attractive. Mabel often went out riding on horseback,
or in the motor with her parents, and thus knew the high roads for many
miles around; but unless she accompanied her cousins, she seldom
explored the lanes and by-paths.

"In one way it's much jollier to go on foot," she declared. "You can
stop to pick flowers, or climb on to banks; and I do so enjoy getting
over stiles!"

"You'll have enough of them this afternoon," laughed Francis. "There are
at least twelve to cross, if we go through the fields by the river."

"Are Sibyl and Ida coming with us?" asked Mabel.

"No, they think the Grants may be calling, so they don't dare to be out.
Would you each like a stick? We've an assortment here, in the umbrella
stand; this is a nice little one with a crooked handle for Aldred, and
I can recommend this cherrywood for you, Mabel."

The country at Grassingford was exceedingly pretty. It was not grand,
nor mountainous, but was well wooded and dotted with picturesque
farmsteads. There were deep lanes, with high hedges, which at the
present season of the year were a mass of flowering hawthorn; and every
little copse and spinney showed blue with hyacinths. There was a
delightful spring-like feeling in the air, that combination of sun and
breeze, bursting buds, and opening leaves which promises returning
summer, renews all the vitality of human beings, and sets us singing
like the birds for the mere joy of being alive. Such days seem echoes of
the Golden Age slipped out of Paradise, days when we want to forget
houses and cities and civilization, and go into the fields to learn the
lessons Mother Nature has to teach us--lessons as old as the hills, but
fresh every year, when they are fraught with the mystery of new
creation.

The path to the river lay across fields, and it would have been
difficult to find it without a guide who knew the way. It zigzagged
b