ly did not want to turn back
either to the station or to Lindenlea. Time was passing rapidly, and she
must push forward if she did not wish to be caught in the dark. Then she
remembered that Martha had once spoken of a short cut between Hurford
and Latchworth. Martha walked over occasionally on Sunday afternoons to
see a cousin who lived in Latchworth village, and she had given a minute
description of the route. Dorothy recollected quite well that, starting
from Hurford, the maid had crossed some fields, gone through a wood, and
come out by a path that led through a small, disused quarry on to the
high road. She had said it cut off a long corner, and saved almost a
mile.

"If I can only find the quarry," thought Dorothy, "I'll try that short
cut. I don't suppose I can go wrong if I follow the path through the
wood. I shall be glad to get off the road, at any rate."

The caravan had passed out of sight, so she came down from her
hiding-place and hurried on in search of the quarry. She had not walked
very far before she found it--a craggy little ravine, with heather
growing over the rocks, and heaps of stones and shale lying about. This
must surely be the place, so she turned at once off the high road into
it. There was not a soul about. Some agitated blackbirds, annoyed at her
vicinity, went fluttering out of the bushes, tweeting a warning to
other feathered friends; and something small--either a rat or a
rabbit--scuttled away into the grass and dried fern in a great panic at
the sight of her. The sun had set some time ago, and the last tinge of
red had faded from the sky. The grey, chilly dusk was changing from a
neutral tint to black. A landscape on an evening at the beginning of
November is never very cheerful, and Dorothy felt the depressing
influence of the scene. The few wind-swept trees at the head of the
ravine stretched long, bare branches, which looked like fingers prepared
to clutch her as she passed. The grass was damp and sodden, and here and
there a pool of water lay across the path. She was quite glad when she
was out of the quarry, and found herself in an open field. It was a
comfort to see the sky all round, even though the light was failing.

"I'm sure it's grown dark to-night much quicker than it did yesterday,"
she exclaimed. "How fearfully overcast it is, too! I believe there'll be
rain in a few minutes. Here's the wood. It looks quite thick and
fairy-tale-y--the sort of place to meet a giant or an