beside Anne.'

Then she and Mrs. Parsley went on to talk about sheets and pillow-cases,
and stupid things like that, so I took out my notebook--I always have a
notebook--and went poking about to see what things we'd better bring
down with us from London. I made quite a tidy list, though mums wouldn't
let me bring all I wanted; and some of the things Mrs. Parsley had
already when I spoke about them, only she hadn't put them out.

Then we went down again by the big staircase--all old brown wood and
nobbly balusters: mother said it was really beautiful--which ran down to
a kind of hall behind the kitchen, and then we had luncheon. I'll never
forget it. Either I was awfully hungry, or the things were extra
good--perhaps both--but I don't think I ever tasted such nice ham, or
such a splendid home-made cake.

CHAPTER IX

SPYING THE LAND

After luncheon we had still an hour and a half before we needed to start
for the station. Mrs. Parsley asked us if we would like to stroll about
the garden and the farm a little, but mums was tired. She did go outside
the house to a nice sheltered corner where there was a rustic bench, and
there she said she would enjoy the air and rest at the same time.

But I wasn't the least tired. I wanted to enjoy the air without resting.
So mums asked Mrs. Parsley to tell me where I could go without any fear
of losing my way, or coming back too late.

Mrs. Parsley considered.

'There's a beautiful path through the wood,' she said, 'that brings you
out at the end of what we call our village. It's "Fewforest, South End,"
by rights, for Fewforest is very straggly. It's divided into north end
and south end, and houses between, here and there. The old church is at
South End, I'm glad to say, for it makes it nice and convenient for us;
no excuses for staying away if it's a bad day, though, indeed, I think
our folk love their church. We've been very favoured in the clergy here
for a many years.'

'I'd like to see the church,' I said. I always like to see churches.
'Will it be open, Mrs. Parsley?'

'Oh yes, sir, bless you, sure to be. We've all the new ways here. Mr.
Joyce would never hold with a church that was kept locked.'

Mother smiled a little.

'The _old_ ways, I like to call them, Mrs. Parsley,' she said. 'The old
ways we're coming back to, I'm glad to say, after putting them aside for
so long that people had almost forgotten they were the really old
original ones.'

Mrs. Pars