did!"
"You must have imagined it."
It certainly seemed rather improbable. The portraits were all firmly fixed in the panelled walls, and no breath of air could be expected to penetrate behind them.
"It's almost as if she were alive," continued Cicely, "and just when we were wishing she could talk! No wonder people make up tales about her. I don't think I quite like it."
"How silly you are!" said Lindsay scornfully. "You might have seen a ghost!"
"Well, it is queer! You needn't laugh at me so. I'm not going to stay here any longer; I vote we go out into the garden."
Pictures that moved were rather more than Cicely had bargained for. Mysteries were all very well in their way, but she began to feel it was possible to have too much of a good thing. It was a distinct relief to her to leave the gloomy old gallery, with its armour and tapestry, and walk out into the fresh air and sunshine. There was still half an hour to be disposed of before tea, and the two girls sauntered leisurely in the direction of the kitchen-garden.
"I wish I knew where the boathouse used to be that Sir Piers wanted the key for," said Lindsay.
"It was not very far away, I dare say. The river runs somewhere at the bottom of those fields."
"I wonder if there's a path."
"I believe there's one at the end of the orchard. I saw Scott walking down there once."
"Shall we go and see?"
"All right!"
The orchard was forbidden ground. Perhaps, though, the fact that they risked a scolding, or even a mark for bad conduct, only made the adventure more interesting. They ascertained first that Scott was safely attending to his tomatoes in the greenhouse, then they dived hastily between the rows of young apple trees. Cicely was right. At the far end there was a small gate that led into a meadow.
"The river must be over there, hidden by those willows," said Lindsay.
"I hope we shan't meet a bull," said Cicely, looking nervously at a group of cattle in the distance.
"Oh, come along! You're surely not afraid of cows!"
They had soon crossed the field and reached the shade of the willows by the water's edge. The low bank was covered with reeds and rushes. Tall purple flowers were growing on a green, boggy island close by. It was a very pleasant place, just the kind of spot to choose on a hot summer's afternoon.
"Far nicer than the garden, because we have it all to ourselves," declared Cicely.
"Oh, look what I've found!" exclaimed Lindsay ecstatically.
She had been poking about among the reeds, and now pointed in triumph under the branches of a big willow to a smooth little pool, where there actually floated a punt, anchored by a long chain to the trunk of the tree.
It was a most attractive-looking boat, nicely polished, and with the name
Heatherbell
painted in neat white letters on the prow. It came quite easily to the edge of the bank when Lindsay pulled the chain, and seemed deliberately to invite them to step into it. Such a temptation was not to be resisted. In a moment they were both inside.
"If I can manage to untie it, I'm sure I could punt us out on to the river," said Lindsay.
"Oh, do! And then perhaps we could find some water-lilies," agreed her ever-willing friend.
Lindsay leaned over to reach the chain. It was wound tightly round the tree, and was very difficult to unfasten.
"I'll come and help you!" cried Cicely, and without a thought of the consequences she bounced up, and stepped to the other end of the boat.
Her sudden change of position utterly upset the balance of their small craft. There was a splash, a succession of squeals, and both girls were floundering in the water. Luckily the pool was shallow, and they were in no danger of drowning; but by the time they reached the bank they were wet through, and in an extremely draggled condition.
"What are we to do?" said Cicely blankly, trying to wring the water out of her skirts.
"Go back, I suppose, and put on dry things," replied Lindsay. "We shall get into a fearful scrape, I
"You must have imagined it."
It certainly seemed rather improbable. The portraits were all firmly fixed in the panelled walls, and no breath of air could be expected to penetrate behind them.
"It's almost as if she were alive," continued Cicely, "and just when we were wishing she could talk! No wonder people make up tales about her. I don't think I quite like it."
"How silly you are!" said Lindsay scornfully. "You might have seen a ghost!"
"Well, it is queer! You needn't laugh at me so. I'm not going to stay here any longer; I vote we go out into the garden."
Pictures that moved were rather more than Cicely had bargained for. Mysteries were all very well in their way, but she began to feel it was possible to have too much of a good thing. It was a distinct relief to her to leave the gloomy old gallery, with its armour and tapestry, and walk out into the fresh air and sunshine. There was still half an hour to be disposed of before tea, and the two girls sauntered leisurely in the direction of the kitchen-garden.
"I wish I knew where the boathouse used to be that Sir Piers wanted the key for," said Lindsay.
"It was not very far away, I dare say. The river runs somewhere at the bottom of those fields."
"I wonder if there's a path."
"I believe there's one at the end of the orchard. I saw Scott walking down there once."
"Shall we go and see?"
"All right!"
The orchard was forbidden ground. Perhaps, though, the fact that they risked a scolding, or even a mark for bad conduct, only made the adventure more interesting. They ascertained first that Scott was safely attending to his tomatoes in the greenhouse, then they dived hastily between the rows of young apple trees. Cicely was right. At the far end there was a small gate that led into a meadow.
"The river must be over there, hidden by those willows," said Lindsay.
"I hope we shan't meet a bull," said Cicely, looking nervously at a group of cattle in the distance.
"Oh, come along! You're surely not afraid of cows!"
They had soon crossed the field and reached the shade of the willows by the water's edge. The low bank was covered with reeds and rushes. Tall purple flowers were growing on a green, boggy island close by. It was a very pleasant place, just the kind of spot to choose on a hot summer's afternoon.
"Far nicer than the garden, because we have it all to ourselves," declared Cicely.
"Oh, look what I've found!" exclaimed Lindsay ecstatically.
She had been poking about among the reeds, and now pointed in triumph under the branches of a big willow to a smooth little pool, where there actually floated a punt, anchored by a long chain to the trunk of the tree.
It was a most attractive-looking boat, nicely polished, and with the name
Heatherbell
painted in neat white letters on the prow. It came quite easily to the edge of the bank when Lindsay pulled the chain, and seemed deliberately to invite them to step into it. Such a temptation was not to be resisted. In a moment they were both inside.
"If I can manage to untie it, I'm sure I could punt us out on to the river," said Lindsay.
"Oh, do! And then perhaps we could find some water-lilies," agreed her ever-willing friend.
Lindsay leaned over to reach the chain. It was wound tightly round the tree, and was very difficult to unfasten.
"I'll come and help you!" cried Cicely, and without a thought of the consequences she bounced up, and stepped to the other end of the boat.
Her sudden change of position utterly upset the balance of their small craft. There was a splash, a succession of squeals, and both girls were floundering in the water. Luckily the pool was shallow, and they were in no danger of drowning; but by the time they reached the bank they were wet through, and in an extremely draggled condition.
"What are we to do?" said Cicely blankly, trying to wring the water out of her skirts.
"Go back, I suppose, and put on dry things," replied Lindsay. "We shall get into a fearful scrape, I
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