Her grandmother was no worse than usual: and receiving back the empty basket the girl proceeded to carry out some intention which had not been included in her orders.Instead of returning to the light labours of skimming-time, she hastened on, her direction being towards a little neighbouring town.Before, however, Margery had proceeded far, she met the postman, laden to the neck with letter-bags, of which he had not yet deposited one.
'Are the shops open yet, Samuel?' she said.
'O no,' replied that stooping pedestrian, not waiting to stand upright.'They won't be open yet this hour, except the saddler and ironmonger and little tacker-haired machine-man for the farm folk.
They downs their shutters at half-past six, then the baker's at half-past seven, then the draper's at eight.'
'O, the draper's at eight.' It was plain that Margery had wanted the draper's.
The postman turned up a side-path, and the young girl, as though deciding within herself that if she could not go shopping at once she might as well get back for the skimming, retraced her steps.
The public road home from this point was easy but devious.By far the nearest way was by getting over a fence, and crossing the private grounds of a picturesque old country-house, whose chimneys were just visible through the trees.As the house had been shut up for many months, the girl decided to take the straight cut.She pushed her way through the laurel bushes, sheltering her bonnet with the shawl as an additional safeguard, scrambled over an inner boundary, went along through more shrubberies, and stood ready to emerge upon the open lawn.Before doing so she looked around in the wary manner of a poacher.It was not the first time that she had broken fence in her life; but somehow, and all of a sudden, she had felt herself too near womanhood to indulge in such practices with freedom.However, she moved forth, and the house-front stared her in the face, at this higher level unobscured by fog.
It was a building of the medium size, and unpretending, the facade being of stone; and of the Italian elevation made familiar by Inigo Jones and his school.There was a doorway to the lawn, standing at the head of a flight of steps.The shutters of the house were closed, and the blinds of the bedrooms drawn down.Her perception of the fact that no crusty caretaker could see her from the windows led her at once to slacken her pace, and stroll through the flower-beds coolly.A house unblinded is a possible spy, and must be treated accordingly; a house with the shutters together is an insensate heap of stone and mortar, to be faced with indifference.
On the other side of the house the greensward rose to an eminence, whereon stood one of those curious summer shelters sometimes erected on exposed points of view, called an all-the-year-round.In the present case it consisted of four walls radiating from a centre like the arms of a turnstile, with seats in each angle, so that whencesoever the wind came, it was always possible to find a screened corner from which to observe the landscape.
The milkmaid's trackless course led her up the hill and past this erection.At ease as to being watched and scolded as an intruder, her mind flew to other matters; till, at the moment when she was not a yard from the shelter, she heard a foot or feet scraping on the gravel behind it.Some one was in the all-the-year-round, apparently occupying the seat on the other side; as was proved when, on turning, she saw an elbow, a man's elbow, projecting over the edge.
Now the young woman did not much like the idea of going down the hill under the eyes of this person, which she would have to do if she went on, for as an intruder she was liable to be called back and questioned upon her business there.Accordingly she crept softly up and sat in the seat behind, intending to remain there until her companion should leave.
This he by no means seemed in a hurry to do.What could possibly have brought him there, what could detain him there, at six o'clock on a morning of mist when there was nothing to be seen or enjoyed of the vale beneath, puzzled her not a little.But he remained quite still, and Margery grew impatient.She discerned the track of his feet in the dewy grass, forming a line from the house steps, which announced that he was an inhabitant and not a chance passer-by.At last she peeped round.
