East of the Shadows

The sandy track along which they were passing--it could hardly be called a road--ended abruptly in a tiny open space with a grove of trees upon one side and a sandpit on the other. In the centre was a pond, shrunken at this season of the year to most diminutive proportions; so much so, indeed, that it barely served for the ablutions of some half-a-dozen ducks, who hustled and jostled one another angrily in their efforts to perform their toilet.

Several stout poles supported a varied assortment of washing, which Isabella pointed out with a smile.

"I will not apologise for the publicity of our domestic arrangements," she said. "It used to distress me at first to see my most intimate garments hanging in such close proximity to the well-worn unmentionables of the redoubtable Mr. Palling, but I have got over that. I did mention it to his wife, who failed to understand my scruples, and replied, 'They meets in the washtub, and why not on the line?' and in truth, why not? But here we are arrived at last."

The donkey pulled up at the gate of one of a pair of cottages which stood at the further end of the little green, and Philippa gave an exclamation of pleasure and surprise. "Oh," she cried, "but this is perfectly charming!"

"Wait until you get inside the gate, and then I do think you will say that my retreat is not ill-chosen," answered Isabella with a smile.

At this moment the door of the next cottage opened, and a woman came running out. "Well now," she cried in a hearty voice, "didn't I say just that same thing to Palling when he comed for his bit o' dinner? Them bees, they've been that excited all day, I knew that couldn't mean nothing but a visitor. They know when a stranger comes about as well as well. Never you think about the dinkie, ma'm, I'll see to he. Jes' you go right in. The kettle, that have been on the boil a-waitin' this hour or more; for them bees, they told me you'd be bringin' a visitor back with you as certain as anythin'. Pallin', he said to I, 'Where's a visitor comin' from, I'd like to know?' But Pallin', he ain't no believer; he wouldn't believe he was dying not unless he woke up an' found himself dead--that he wouldn't."

"I'll promise to believe anything the bees tell you if only you will get us a cup of tea," interrupted Isabella, cutting short the stream of the good woman's volubility. "Now come in," she continued, taking Philippa's arm.