eft, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda
stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the
moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.
Griselda looked up to the sky.

"To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my way
in a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side of
the moon last night."

The remembrance put another thought into her mind.

"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"

Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in
her own.

She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the
well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so
clear.

Phil clapped his hands.

"He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way.
That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pulling
Griselda along, he darted down the road to the right--the direction from
whence came the cry.

They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction,
but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss--whenever
the path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and,
without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it brought
them out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate.

"I know the way now, good cuckoo," exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alone
now, if your aunt will be vexed with you."

"No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear.
I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must be
me, not you."

There was a little bustle about the door of the farm-house as the
children wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing together
receiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse was
talking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants.

"Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to look
for him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-night
of all nights, just when your----I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to the
parlour at once--and this little girl, who is she?"

"She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, putting
on his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have some
supper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie's
house--that's what I say."

More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for s