The open-air life, and the great quiet of the country did her good. The livestock on the farm interested her; after some hesitation she learned to milk the cows, under the friendly and amused eye of the farmer, a bluff and direct person with an enormous beard and bright red cheeks.

She was somewhat taken aback by him at first, and a little shocked. As soon as she arrived at the farm a large sheep-dog, bob-tailed and shaggy, bounded up to her and was effusive. She hugged it, a lump in her throat; till now she had hardly realised how much she had missed the dogs at the Halt.

“Oh, you darling!” she cried. “What a beautiful dog!” She looked up at the farmer. “Isn’t he a dear?”

Mr. Gabriel smiled widely down upon her.

“Not a dog, madam. She’s a bitch. Get down, Nellie, get down!”

If your dog was a female you called her a lady-dog. The word bitch fell on amazed ears. Elizabeth hurried away after Mrs. Gabriel to her bedroom.

Mrs. Gabriel was fat and motherly. She took Elizabeth to a long, low-ceilinged room upstairs, with an uneven floor and small casement windows. Chintz curtains framed them, with cottage frills. The bed was a four-poster, all the furniture old and worm-eaten, Jacobean, Elizabeth saw at once.

Outside, the fields stretched away in patchwork to the far woods, and below the window, in the paved yard, some Cochin-China hens searched for grubs in the cracks. There was a partially demolished hay-rick beyond the yard; the scent of it came up to Elizabeth’s room, fragrant and sweet.

“Oh, what a beautiful place!” she exclaimed. “How quaint and fascinating! Don’t you love it?”

“Yes, madam,” Mrs. Gabriel said simply. “Most people do. Mr. Hengist comes here often.”

“He never told me about it till now. I wish I’d known of it before.”

“Never mind, you’ll come again—often.”

“I shall,” Elizabeth said. “If you’ll have me.”

“We’re always glad to have Mr. Hengist’s friends, madam. I hope you’ll be comfortable. It’s not the right time of year to come to a farm, properly speaking, but there’s always plenty to interest you, if you’re fond of animals.”

“I am, oh I am! I wonder, will Mr. Gabriel take me round?”

“Why, surely!” his wife said, smiling.

Under Mr. .Gabriel’s wing Elizabeth inspected everything, and learned that if a pig drank water it was a sign of illness, and that, of all climates under the sun, England’s was the worst.