He shook his head.
"Old Timothy wouldn't harm a hair of your heads," he exclaimed; "and 'tis grateful I be, for you callin' help for my poor Sandy!"
"It's all right," said Charity gravely. "I see you've a good face, and if Faith likes to go with you she can; but we want to pick up firewood for Aunt Alice, and find some more adventures!"
She and Hope spent an exquisite hour in the wood. It was as the old man had said, only a small copse; beyond, were big stretches of coverts, but to the two little girls this wood held all their desires. They caught sight of a couple of rabbits scudding away in the undergrowth to their holes; they picked a bunch of the delicate white wood anemones and primroses; they rooted up some moss, and beautiful bits of young ivy; they collected some fir cones, and then began to gather wood. The fresh smell of the moss and earth around them, and the pure spring air filled their little souls with delight. And then they hushed their breaths to listen to the singing of the birds, and the cooing of a wood pigeon in the distance.
"Oh, Faith is missing a lot!" Hope said. "She was stupid to go off with that old man, instead of coming on with us."
"She looked white and sick," said Charity; "I think that trap frightened her, and the sight of Sandy's bleeding leg!"
They were busy picking up some wood, and tying it into small bundles with string, which their aunt had given them, when they heard a man's heavy step amongst the bushes, then a whistle, and Hope caught hold of Charity with frightened eyes:
"Let us hide, it may be a robber!"
"It's too early in the morning," said Charity sceptically, but she pulled her sister round to the back of a big tree, and both peeped round the corner with anxious, expectant eyes.
A tall, broad-shouldered man came in sight, followed by a big black retriever. He was a gentleman, and Charity took courage, and stepped out of her hiding place.