"I have almost no faith in the undertaking, but am willing to try, and if I fail I shall be no worse off than now. But where shall I go?"
Mr. Harding thought a moment, and then said—
"I have heard that there are girls enough on Seccombe Plains."
"How far is that?"
"Only twelve or fifteen miles. It is only four or five miles from Cousin Harriman's."
"Oh, that will be nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harding, well pleased with the suggestion. "I will spend the night with Cousin Clarissa, and start from there in the morning."
After dinner, the same day, Walter brought the carriage round to the door, and Mrs. Harding started off, infinitely amused with her errand, though with no very sanguine hopes of success.
The next morning, Mrs. Harriman gave her guests an early breakfast, and by seven o'clock they were ready to commence their search. It was a lovely morning in early June. The sun had not been up long enough to kiss the glistening dew from the grass, and the thousand songsters of grove and forest had not quite finished their matin song. Everything looked bright with hope; and hope beat higher, a great deal higher in Mrs. Harding's breast than it had done the day before. The whole world looked so beautiful that it seemed almost wicked to doubt, and they rode on over the retired hills towards Seccombe Plains, feeling almost as sure of the "bird" as though they had her "in hand."
After riding two or three miles, they approached a small unpainted cottage which stood upon a very high bank upon the right. A single glance showed them that two or three men were at the back door, evidently just starting for the fields.
"Stop when you get against the house, Walter; I mean to inquire here," said Mrs. Harding, as they drew near. But the next moment two of the men disappeared round the corner of the shed, while the third, a very oily-looking man, with an enormous width of collar, came leisurely along in front of the house.