Bunny's lanky form followed and also cleared the rose-tree with infinitely less grace, and again the girl laughed, her wide blue eyes alight with mirth.
"What an antic! I thought you were going to pull up the rose bush with your heels! What are you doing that for?"
Bunny's hands were on her shoulders. He was plainly enjoying himself thoroughly. "I'm feeling for the wings," he explained. "I'll swear you never jumped it. Where do you keep 'em?"
She drew herself away from his touch. "No, I haven't got any. They don't grow on people like me. Don't let's stay here! I feel as if we're being watched."
It was then that Maud spoke from her window in her quiet gentle voice that yet held a certain authority.
"Bunny, bring our visitor up to see me!"
Both Bunny and his companion started and looked up, and Maud saw the girl's face fully for the first time—a nervous little face with haunting wide blue eyes made more intense by the short thick black lashes that surrounded them, eyes that seemed to plead for kindness. There was charm about the pointed chin and a good deal of sweetness about the moulding of the mouth. But it was the eyes that held Maud's attention. They were the eyes of a creature who has known the wild agony of fear and is not easily reassured. Yet the face was the face of a child.
She leaned out a little further on her sill and addressed the stranger. "Come up and speak to me!" she said very kindly. "Bunny will show you the way."
A shy flickering smile answered her. She cast a questioning look at
Bunny.
"Yes, that's Maud—my sister," said Bunny. "Come along! This way!"