Chapter Ten.
“You Cannot Have Read Many Fairy Stories.”
But no, she stood there, opening the window a little, though it was decidedly cold, in vain. There was no sign or sound of her friends, and Mary felt disappointed and rather cross when the bell rang, and she had to hasten downstairs without even the pretty greeting, she loved so well, reaching her from the neighbouring trees.
“They are really rather unkind,” she thought. “I do believe they know everything, or at least most things about me. I am sure they know I want to see them this morning. I daresay I shall hear nothing more of them—ever—or perhaps they’ll come, but after I am gone; very likely the white dove will come back to Crook Edge after Blanche and Milly are gone. I don’t believe birds have got any hearts, whether they’re half fairies or not.”
“Mary,” said Miss Verity, who noticed Mary’s moods more than the little girl knew, “will you gather some fir-cones for me this afternoon? I shall not be going a drive, as the ponies need shoeing, and besides that, I have some long letters to write. So you can amuse yourself in the forest if you like.” Somehow Mary’s spirits rose when she heard this; for though feeling, as she was, rather offended with the wood-pigeons, it made her, all the same, hopeful that she might come across them.
And as soon as possible after her early dinner she set off, carrying the basket that Pleasance had given her to fill with fir-cones.
“I think I must look like a rather big Red-Riding-Hood,” she thought, as she passed through the wicket between Dove’s Nest and the forest; “though my basket is empty and hers was full, and I am hoping to meet the Cooies and not fearing to meet a wolf! And though my coat is red like hers, it is a jacket and not a cloak.”
But she walked a good way without meeting anything, and again she began to feel rather cross with her little friends.