“I think Levinside is the beautifulest place in the world,” said Mary. “And oh, godmother, I do hope you will let me go about here in the forest by myself. I know I won’t get lost.”
“I don’t think you would,” said Miss Verity. “I have a feeling that the forest is half a fairy place. I don’t think any harm could come to you in it.”
Chapter Seven.
“There are Rules, you see, Mary.”
There was a red glow in the sky where the sun had disappeared, as Mary and her godmother came out from the shade of the trees, and stood for a moment or two on the lawn at the side of the house, before going indoors. I think one is often inclined to do this in the country, especially when it is no longer summer, and the evenings are less warm and mild—it is a sort of “good-night” to the outside world before you have to close the doors and windows of your own nest, hoping that all the furred and feathered friends are snug and cosy in theirs.
“It will be fine to-morrow, I feel pretty sure,” said Miss Verity, “and perhaps milder. I hope so, for my own sake as well as yours, Mary, for I have to drive rather a long way. Now run upstairs and take off your things quickly, for tea will be quite ready, I am sure.”
Mary was down again in a minute: she was not tempted to linger at her window, as she knew the Cooies would not come there till the morning. She only thought to herself that she would be very glad if Miss Verity proposed her staying at home the next day, while she herself went the long drive she had spoken of.
“I could be in the forest all the afternoon,” she thought.