stile in the hedge and took a field path that ran up to
a wood--the wood way, as he remembered, to Astleys. Peter had stayed at
Astleys more than once in old days, with Denis. He remembered the keen,
damp fragrance of the wood in April; the smooth stems of the beeches,
standing up out of the mossy ground, and the way the primroses glimmered,
moon-like, among the tangled ground-ivy; and the way the birds made every
budding bough rock with their clamorous delight. It was a happy wood,
full of small creatures and eager happenings and adventurous quests;
a fit road to take questers after happiness to their goal. In itself it
seemed almost the goal already, so alive was it and full of joy. Was
there need to travel further? Very vividly the impression was borne in on
Peter (possibly on Thomas too) that there was no need; that here, perhaps
round the next twist of the little brown path, was not the way but the
achievement.

And, rounding the next bend, they knew it to be so; for above the path,
sitting at a beech-tree's foot among creeping ivy, with head thrown back
against the smooth grey stem, and gathered primroses in either hand, was
Lucy.

Looking round at the sound of feet on the path, she saw them, and smiled
a little, not as if surprised, nor as if she had to change the direction
of her thought, but taking them into her vision of the spring woods as
if they were natural dwellers in it.

Peter stood still on the path and looked up at her and smiled too. He
said, "Oh, Lucy, Thomas and I have come."

She bent down towards them, and reached out her hands, dropping the
primroses, for Thomas. Peter gave her Thomas, and she laid him on her
lap, cradled on her two arms, and smiled, still silently.

Peter sat down on the sloping ground just below her, his back against
another tree.

"We've come to see you and Denis. You won't come to see us, so we had to
take it into our own hands. We decided, Thomas and I, two days ago, that
we weren't going on any longer in this absurd way. We're going to have a
good time. So we went out and got things--lots of lovely things. And I've
chucked my horrible work. And we've come to see you. Will Denis mind? I
can't help it if he does; we've got to do it."

Lucy nodded, understanding. "I know. In thinking about you lately, I've
known it was coming to this, rather soon. I didn't quite know when. But
I knew you must have a good time."

After a little while she went on, and her clear voice f