"It would be rather nice," she said. "But there is Miss Gerald, you know; she will wonder where I am."
"Never mind. I'll bring you home."
And down the chain of water-meadows from one valley to another they wandered through the April afternoon, till the old mill-pool lay before them deep and shadowy beneath the green, wet walls. A long gleam of light lay athwart its surface, dying slowly as the sunset faded.
"It is tea-time," said Tommy.
"Poor Miss Gerald," murmured Madge.
"She's all right," replied Tommy, cheerfully. "I expect she's jolly well enjoying herself."
As I passed the poet's gate I saw him pacing the lawn, and hailed him.
"Have you enjoyed the morning?" I asked.