Mary gave herself a little shake. She had been standing listening in a half dreamy way. Now she ran across the lawn and through the wicket-gate and into the wood as quickly as she could go. But once she was well among the trees she walked more slowly; somehow she never felt inclined to run very fast in the forest or to talk loudly. There was something soft and soothing in the air, in the gentle rustle high up among the branches and the uncertain light, a feeling of “mystery,” to put it shortly.
“I wonder,” said the little girl to herself, “I wonder if it all looked just as it does now when godmother was like me and strolled about the paths. I wonder if it will look just the same when I get to be quite old, as old as dear godmother is now. I wonder if it will look the same—let me see—a hundred years from now.”
“It will not take a hundred years for you to be an old woman,” said a voice close to her ear.
Mary gave a little start. Then, glancing up, she saw the two wood-pigeons perched on a low-growing branch just where she was passing. They had not been there a moment or two before, she was certain, and she felt a little vexed with them—with Mr Coo, at least, for she now knew their voices well enough to distinguish that it was he who had spoken to her—for startling her.
“Of course it won’t,” she replied rather crossly. “I am not so silly as all that. I shall be quite old in fifty years, or less than that I wasn’t thinking of godmother’s age when I wondered about a hundred years from now, nor about myself either, and if you please, Cooies, when you guess what I am thinking in my own mind, please guess the whole, and not odd bits.”
“All right,” said Mr Coo.
“No,” said Mary, “I think it’s all wrong when you get into that teasing way.”
“He doesn’t mean it, my dear,” said Mrs Coo, who was always a peacemaker, “but perhaps you are tired to-day. Would you rather not—”
“Oh,” interrupted Mary, “if you are going to say would I rather not go to see that secret part of the forest, please don’t say it. Of course I’m not tired or anything. I’ve just been longing to come.”
“Well then,” said Mr Coo, “listen, Mary, and I will tell you exactly what to do. Walk straight on till you come to the place where you stood still with your godmother yesterday and looked at the dark part among the trees. Then glance about you on the left, and after a little you will perceive lying on the ground a small grey feather. Note well the spot where it lies, then pick it up and fasten it on to your cap in the front.”