e drive; where's the
difference? In fact, we'd _rather_ have people walk in the drive because
of the pheasants."

"There _is_ a difference, though it may not be apparent to you . . . if I
follow this road, do I come to the village?"

"Don't be silly," she said shortly. "If you prefer to be all over mud
there's no more to be said, but I can't direct you any more than I've
done. If you want to get to the village you must go down our drive,
unless you go wandering another mile and a half out of your way. It's
quite a short drive; only you must come by the stables to get to it.
_Are_ you coming?"

"I'm afraid I seem ungrateful," he began.

"You do rather," she interrupted.

"I assure you I am not. I appreciate your kindness, but I cannot see why
I should trouble . . ."

"Oh, Heaven's used to it; _he_ wouldn't mind, but it's evident you would,
so come along. It will be dark before long, and I'll get into no end of
a row if I'm out alone, and father meets me when I get in. Not a soul
will see you, please hurry."

She led him across a deserted stableyard, and round the back of the house
through a wide-walked formal garden, where Christmas roses shone star
white in the herbacious border, where yew trees were clipped into
fantastic shapes, and tall grey statues looked like ghosts in the
gathering dusk, till they reached the sweep of gravelled drive in front
of the house. Wide lawns sloped steeply to the banks of the Marle, which
flowed through the grounds. The red December sun was reflected in a
myriad flames in the many mullioned windows of the Manor. As the girl
had promised, not a soul was in sight, and it was very still.

"There, Mr Gallup," she announced, cheerfully, "follow the drive and
you'll find the village outside the gates. Good-bye! I must go in by
the side door with these boots." And before he could do more than lift
his hat while he murmured inarticulate thanks, she had walked swiftly
away and vanished round the angle of the house.

For a moment he stood quite still, looking at the beautiful old Jacobean
manor-house so warmly red in the sunset. Then he, too, turned and walked
quickly down the winding drive, and as he went he murmured softly: "So
that's what they're like . . . curious anomaly . . . curious anomaly."

The girl entered the house by the side door, changed her muddy boots and
hung up her coat and hat in a little room devoted to boot boxes and pegs,
and ran upstairs to the scho