I sat down, disembarrassed. Politeness might have confused me; caprice laid me under no obligation.
Mrs. Fairfax seemed to think someone should be amiable, and she began to talk.
"Madam, I should like some tea," was the sole rejoinder she got.
"Come to the fire," said the master, when the tray was taken away. "When you came on me in Hay lane last night I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse. I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?"
"I have none."
"I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on that stile?"
"For whom, sir?"
"For the men in green. Did I break through one of your rings that you spread that ice on the causeway?"
I shook my head.
"The men in green all forsook England a hundred years ago. I don't think either summer or harvest or winter moon will ever shine on their revels more."