"Ah, a long time!" Her father was speaking. Now he halted and pointed down—to a wide road that crossed the one she was traveling. "Just notice how that's been worn."
The wide road had deep ruts. Also, here and there upon it were great, bowl-like holes. But a level strip between the ruts and the holes shone as if it had been tramped down by countless feet.
"Around Robin Hood's Barn!" went on her father sadly. "How many have helped to wear that road! Not only her mother, but her mother before her, and then back and back as far as you can count."
"I can't count back very far," said Gwendolyn, "'cause I never have any time for 'rithmatic. I have to study my French, and my German, and my music, and my—"
Her father groaned. "I've traveled it, too," he admitted.
She lifted her eyes then. And there, just across that wide road, was the Barn!—looming up darkly, a great framework of steel girders, all bolted together, and rusted in patches and streaks. Through these girders could be seen small regular spots of light.
"Nobody has to go round the Barn," she protested. "Anybody could just go right in at one side and right out at the other."
"But the road!" said her father meaningly. "If ever one's feet touch it—!"
She thought the road wonderful. It was river-wide, and full of gentle undulations. Where it was smoothest, it reflected the Barn and all the surrounding lights. Yet now (like the shining tin of a roof-top) it resounded—to a foot-fall!
"Some one's coming!" announced the Piper.