“Is it so very beautiful?” she said wistfully when she heard my raptures. “And you like the lead-figures too? There’s the old azalea garden behind. They say that this place must have been made for children. Will you help me out, please? I should like to come with you as far as the cross-roads, but I mustn’t leave them. Is that you, Madden? I want you to show this gentleman the way to the cross-roads. He has lost his way but—he has seen them.”
A butler appeared noiselessly at the miracle of old oak that must be called the front door, and slipped aside to put on his hat. She stood looking at me with open blue eyes in which no sight lay, and I saw for the first time that she was beautiful.
“Remember,” she said quietly, “if you are fond of them you will come again,” and disappeared within the house.
The butler in the car said nothing till we were nearly at the lodge gates, where catching a glimpse of a blue blouse in a shrubbery I swerved amply lest the devil that leads little boys to play should drag me into child-murder.
“Excuse me,” he asked of a sudden, “but why did you do that, Sir?”
“The child yonder.”
“Our young gentleman in blue?”
“Of course.”
“He runs about a good deal. Did you see him by the fountain, Sir?”
“Oh, yes, several times. Do we turn here?”