Diana rode leisurely along the lane, beside great trees and hedges that were a blaze of riotous colour. Autumn had turned the leaves dull gold and flame, mellow brown and deepest red, with flaming orange intermingled, and touches of copper here and there where some beech tree stood. The lane was like a fairy picture, too gorgeous to be real; the trees, meeting overhead, but let the sunlight through in patches, so that the dusty road beneath was mottled with gold.
The hedges retained their greenness, and where there was a gap a vista of fields presented itself. And then they came upon a clump of berries, black and red, growing the other side of the little stream that meandered along the lane in a ditch. Diana drew up and addressed her companion.
"See, Harper—there are berries! We need go no further." She changed the reins to her right hand and made as if to spring down.
"The place I spoke of is but a short way on, miss," ventured the man, keeping his seat.
She paused.
"But why will these not suffice?"
"Well, miss, if you like. But those others were a deal finer. It seems a pity not to get some."
Diana looked doubtfully along the road.
"'Tis not far?"
"No, miss; but another quarter of a mile, and then down the track by the wood."