as a Thetford girl.

As for the young Mildmays, they stood motionless, not overawed, but both
impressed and startled, gazing at the unexpected apparition in a way
which Jacinth afterwards hoped to herself had not seemed like ill-bred
staring.

But the lady was looking at them too. She had a stick in her hand--a
polished black-wood stick, with a gold knob at the top--and for the
first moment or two she stood as if leaning on it. Then she raised it
with a little gesture, as if inviting them to come nearer.

'What was that name I heard you say just now?' she began. 'I heard you
from the other side of my garden-wall. I have quick ears, though I am
old.'

The mention of ears was unfortunate. Somehow it recalled the story of
Red Riding-hood and her grandmother to Eugene; tired and excited
already, he grew perfectly white and caught hold of his elder sister's
dress. And for a moment or two the presence of mind of the whole party
seemed to have deserted them. No one spoke.

The old lady tapped her stick impatiently on the hard gravel.

'Don't you understand me?' she said. 'You were talking fast enough just
now. The little boy was complaining of being thirsty. I think it was he
that said the--the name. What is the matter with him? does he think I am
going to eat him?'

This last was addressed to Frances, now standing a little in front of
the others, partly with an instinct of coming between the terrified
little boy and those keen, searching eyes.

'My brother is very tired--and very thirsty,' she said. 'It was he that
was speaking, and I daresay he said our names. Mine is Frances, but my
sister's is Jacinth. Perhaps you heard that name: it is very uncommon.'

'Jacinth!' repeated the old lady, '_Jacinth!_'

Her voice sounded far away and dreamy. A queer feeling came over the two
girls, as if by a strange chance they had strayed unawares into some
secret chamber, some long-closed deserted house; or as if a vague
momentary glimpse into some long-ago story, some old romance, of the
distant past had been suddenly opened to them.

They could not themselves have put this feeling into words; it came to
them, I think, in the subtle way in which sometimes we are conscious of
the unexpressed emotions and sensations of those near us. Nevertheless
they stood silent, surprised and almost awe-struck. Then the old lady
seemed to rouse herself: with a little effort she came back into the
present, as it were.

'Yes,' she said, 'tha