"Our England is a bonnie island," said Shirley, "and Yorkshire is one of her bonniest nooks."
"You are a Yorkshire girl too?"
"I am--Yorkshire in blood and birth. Five generations of my race sleep under the aisles of Briarfield Church: I drew my first breath in the old black hall behind us."
Hereupon Caroline presented her hand, which was accordingly taken and shaken. "We are compatriots," said she.
"Yes," agreed Shirley, with a grave nod.
"And that," asked Miss Keeldar, pointing to the forest--"that is Nunnwood?"
"It is."
"Were you ever there?"
"Many a time."
"In the heart of it?"