"But I shall—I know I shall!" she cried, a little wildly, but yielding her hand to my lips. "Yes, I know—I'm sure I shall, Peregrine, and what should you do then?"
"Grieve, child!"
"Look!" she whispered suddenly, bending to stare down into the glory of the brook, "O Peregrine—do you see it?" From the stream she pointed upward to the radiant heaven where, immediately above us, sailed a small, curiously-shaped cloud. "Do you see it, Peregrine?"
"Only a little, golden cloud, Diana."
"It is—the 'Hand of Glory,'" she whispered.
"What is it—what does it mean?"
"It means, Peregrine, it means that you—that I—oh, you must find out!" And snatching her hand from mine, she fled from me into the wood.
CHAPTER XXVII
JUNO VERSUS DIANA
I was busily engaged blowing the bellows of the Tinker's small, portable forge; besides the making and mending of kettles, pots, pans and the like, it seems he was a skilful smith also, able to turn his hand from shoeing a horse to fashioning such diverse implements as the rustic community had need of, for beside the forge lay a pile of billhooks, axe-heads, sickle-blades and the like, finished or in the making.