“I am sure I shall like her,” she thought to herself. Then she kissed Fritz, and Twitter, and Baby-boy again, and nurse too—which was rather nice of her, I think—and last of all her aunt, who gave her a warm hug.
And in another minute or two Mary was rattling to the station in a four-wheeler, with Pleasance beside her, and her luggage in front. And in another quarter of an hour or so, they were comfortably settled in the railway carriage—off to Levinside, Mary busy wondering to herself if this was the way the Cooies came to the Square gardens, or if they had some other “air-path,” without following the railway line.
She was roused from these reflections by the maid’s voice.
“It is a nice day for the time of year,” Pleasance said. “I hope, Miss Mary, it will be bright weather while you are with us.”
“Yes,” said Mary, rather absently. She was watching the flight of a bird overhead, and wondering if possibly it was one of her friends.
Pleasance thought she might be feeling rather shy and strange, so she went on talking.
“You have never been to Levinside, I think, Miss,” she said. “To my mind there’s no place like it, and no house like ours, though, to be sure, it’s quite small. But there’s not a window in it that you can’t see a bit of the forest from, not one, though at the back, of course, you see it best of all.”
Mary’s attention was fully caught by this time. “How nice,” she exclaimed, “how very nice! I do hope my room is at the back.”
“Yes, Miss Mary,” said the maid, pleased at her tone, “that is just what it is. It has two windows, and from one you could almost touch the trees. The other window is larger and gets the morning sun, so the room is not at all dull or chilly, indeed all our rooms are bright, though just at the edge of the forest.”
“I love forests,” said Mary, “at least I mean trees. I have never seen a real forest, only woods. Are there many birds in Levin Forest?” she went on, half timidly.