We call it
the Peacock's Walk. You can't see it from here, they tell me, but if you
squeeze along by the edge of the wood you can turn at the first peacock
and get on to the flags."
It was sacrilege to wake that dreaming house-front with the clatter of
machinery, but I swung the car to clear the turf, brushed along the edge
of the wood and turned in on the broad stone path where the fountain-basin
lay like one star-sapphire.
"May I come too?" she cried. "No, please don't help me. They'll like it
better if they see me."
She felt her way lightly to the front of the car, and with one foot on the
step she called: "Children, oh, children! Look and see what's going to
happen!"
The voice would have drawn lost souls from the Pit, for the yearning that
underlay its sweetness, and I was not surprised to hear an answering shout
behind the yews. It must have been the child by the fountain, but he fled
at our approach, leaving a little toy boat in the water. I saw the glint
of his blue blouse among the still horsemen.
Very disposedly we paraded the length of the walk and at her request
backed again. This time the child had got the better of his panic, but
stood far off and doubting.
"The little fellow's watching us," I said. "I wonder if he'd like a ride."
"They're very shy still. Very shy. But, oh, lucky you to be able to see
them! Let's listen."
I stopped the machine at once, and the humid stillness, heavy with the
scent of box, cloaked us deep.
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