"That's what my—our—shepherd calls them. He saw them late one night, a while back. One was a woman, he said, and the air was cold with them and set him sneezing. That's what he says."
"It was some of the wild ponies, I suppose."
"Maybe."
"You don't think it was really ghosts?"
"No, for I've seen them myself." She paused. "I haven't said anything to John, but I'm wondering if I ought."
"Why not?"
Lily's gaze widened in her attempt to see what Helen's point of view would be and she spoke slowly, that, if possible, she might not offend.
"It was George Halkett I saw. There was no woman, but he was leading one horse and riding another. It was one night when John was late on the moor and I went to look for him. George didn't see me. I kept quiet till he'd gone by. There was a side saddle on the led horse."
"Well?" Helen said.
"That's all. I thought you ought to know."