272 MASTER SKYLARK

‘Idst fill the house with such a throng as it hath never
seen!” And in the morning she would not take a penny
for their lodging nor their keep. “Nay, nay,” said she;
“they ha’ brought good custom to the house, and left me
a brave little tale to tell for many a good long year. We
inns-folk be not common penny-grabbers; marry, no!”
and, furthermore, she made interest with a carrier to give
them a lift to Woodstock on their way.

When they came to Woodstock the carrier set them
down by the gates of a park built round by a high stone
wall over which they could not see, and with his waim
went in at the gate, leaving them to journey on together
through a little rain-shower.

The land grew flatter than before. There were few
crees upon the hills, and scarcely any springs at which to
drink, but much tender grass, with countless sheep nib-
bling everywhere. The shower was soon blown away;
the sun came out; and a pleasant wind sprang up out of
the south. Here and there beside some cottage wall the
lilacs bloomed, and the later orchard-trees were apple-pink
and cherry-white with May.

They came to a puddle in the road where there was a
dance of butterflies. Cicely clapped her hands with glee.
A goldfinch dipped across the path like a little yellow
streak of laughter in the sun. “Oh, Nick, what is it?”
she cried.

“A bird,” said he.

“A truly bird?” and she clasped her hands. “ Will it

ever come again?”