?' said she, not heeding. 'The first one with
eyes like saucers, looking--so! And the next with eyes like
mill wheels--so! And the next, with eyes like the full moon!--'
At which point Miss Hazel's own eyes were worth looking at.

'You do not answer me, I observe. Never mind. A woman's
understanding, I have frequently observed, develops like a
prophecy.'

The night in the mill was better, on the whole, than it
promised. No sound awoke Wych Hazel, till little messengers of
light came stealing through every crack and knot hole of the
mill, and a many-toed Dorking near by had six times proclaimed
himself the first cock in creation, let the other be who he
would!

To open her eyes was to be awake, with Wych Hazel; and softly
she stepped along the floor and out on the dewy path to the
lake side; and there stood splashing her hands in the water
and the water over her face, with intense satisfaction. The
lake was perfectly still, disturbed only by the dip of a king-
fisher or the spring of a trout. She stood there musing over
the last day and the last week, starting various profound
questions, but not stopping to run them down,--then went
meandering back to the mill again. On her way she came to a
spot in the grass where there was a sprinkling of robin's
feathers. Wych Hazel stopped short looking at them, smiling to
herself, then suddenly stopped and chose out three or four;
and went back with quick steps to the mill.

Bread and tea were had in the open air, with the seasoning of
the June morning. The stage coach rumbled off by the road it
had come, bearing with it the two countrywomen, and leaving a
pile of baggage for Chickaree. The miller came down and set
his mill agoing, excusing himself to his guests by saying that
there was a good lot of corn to be ground and the people would
be along for it. So the mill became no longer a place of rest,
and Miss Hazel and her guardian were driven out into the woods
by the rumble and dust and jar of machinery. Do what they
would, it was a long morning to twelve o'clock; when the mill
ceased its rumble and the miller went home to his dinner, and
the weary and warm loiterers came back to the shade of the
mill floor. Then the sound of wheels was heard at last; the
first that had broken the solitude that day; and presently at
the mill door Rollo presented himself, looking as if sunshine
agreed with him. He shook hands with Mr. Falkirk, but gave
Wych Hazel his old stately salutation