small snowy clouds seemed like white birds floating
on outspread wings below its crystal blueness.
The wind swept in soft big breaths down from
the moor and was strange with a wild clear scented
sweetness. Colin kept lifting his thin chest to
draw it in, and his big eyes looked as if it were
they which were listening -- listening, instead of
his ears.

"There are so many sounds of singing and
humming and calling out," he said. "What is
that scent the puffs of wind bring?"

"It's gorse on th' moor that's openin' out," answered
Dickon. "Eh! th' bees are at it wonderful
to-day."

Not a human creature was to be caught sight
of in the paths they took. In fact every gardener
or gardener's lad had been witched away. But
they wound in and out among the shrubbery and
out and round the fountain beds, following their
carefully planned route for the mere mysterious
pleasure of it. But when at last they turned into
the Long Walk by the ivied walls the excited sense
of an approaching thrill made them, for some curious
reason they could not have explained, begin to
speak in whispers.

"This is it," breathed Mary. "This is where
I used to walk up and down and wonder and
wonder."

[[264]]

p263 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p264w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p265

v?