“Into the woods, my children,” she whispered quickly,—“into the woods. In a moment the Queen will burst into tears, and the King will have scant kindness for those whose warnings have set his Queen to weeping.”
They backed into the bushes, and the green leaves closed behind the four.
“Quick!” said the witch; “this way.” They followed her through the wood under oaks and yew-trees, pressing through hazels and chestnuts to a path.
“Now run!” she said, and herself led the way nimbly enough for one of her great age. Their run brought them to a thinning of the wood—then out of it—on to the downs, whence they could see Arden Castle and its moat, and the sea.
“‘NOW RUN!’ SHE SAID, AND HERSELF LED THE WAY.”
“Now,” the old woman said, “mark well the spot where the moat stream rises. It is there that the smugglers’ cave was, when Betty Lovell foretold the landing of the French.”
“Why,” said Edred and Elfrida, “you’re the witch again! You’re Betty Lovell!”
“Who else?” said the old woman. “Now, call on the Mouldiwarp and hasten back to your own time. For the King will raise the country against the child who has made his sweeting to shed tears. And she will tell him, she keeps nothing from him, and . . . yet——”
“She won’t tell him about the kerchief?”