"How old do you suppose these trees to be, father?"
"Can't guess; less than centuries would not do. Centuries of being let alone! I wonder how men would get on, if they could have as good a chance? Glorious! Go on, children, and take your walk; I will lie down here and rest. I believe I want that more than walking."
He threw himself down at full length on the turf in the shadow of a giant beech. Dolly and her remaining companion passed slowly on. This was not what she had reckoned upon; but she saw that her father wished to be left alone, and she did not feel, nevertheless, that she could go home and leave the party. Slowly she and Mr. St. Leger sauntered on, from the shadow of one great tree to another; Dolly thinking what she should do. When they were gotten out of sight and out of earshot, she too stopped, and sat down on a shady bank which the roots of an immense oak had thrown up around its base.
"What now?" said Lawrence.
"This is a good place to stay. Father wishes to be left to himself."
"But aren't you going any further?"
"There is nothing to be gained by going any further. It is as pretty here as anywhere in the wood."
"We might go on and see the pheasantry. Have you seen the pheasantry?"
"No."
"That does not depend on the housekeeper's pleasure; and the people on the place are not all Methodists. I fancy we should have no trouble in getting to see that. Come! It is really very fine, and worth a walk to see. I am not much of a place-hunter, but the Brierley pheasantry is something by itself."