“O-ver the hills and far a-wa-ay!”
The air of the quaint old song could plainly be heard, growing fainter and more far-away even as they listened, but certainly there for all that.
“The funny part of it is,” said Betty, “that somehow I think I’ve heard it before. Only I never thought it came from a person, you know, Gerry. It seemed the same kind of tune as the bees somehow—a sort of out-of-doors sound, and mixed up with every other sound.” She stopped, wondering whether her companion would understand what she meant.
Gerry, however, appeared to take the remark as a perfectly intelligible one. She nodded gravely.
The pair of them were leaning over the fence.
“Yes, I know. Only it couldn’t be, of course; because it really is a tune. I wish——”
By this time the pair of them were leaning over the fence which divided the gardens from the school wood.
“Nobody’s here,” said Gerry. “You see, it’s private; and we couldn’t hear sounds from the road—it’s too far off. But the sound did come from the wood; I heard it too.”