“Someone long ago made it necessary—­it is not the Aunts’ fault—­” and then Halcyone stopped abruptly and pointed to the beech avenue which they were approaching now through the bracken, brown and crisp from last year, with only here and there a green shoot showing.

“Queen Mab and the elves live there in May and early June,” she said.  “They dance every afternoon as the sun sets, and sometimes in the dawn, too, and the early morning.  You can see them if you keep quite still.”

“Naturally,” said Cheiron.

“Do you know, since last winter I have had a great pleasure,” and Halcyone’s grave, intent eyes looked up into the old gentleman’s face.  “There was a terrible storm in February—­but can you really keep a secret?”—­and then, as he nodded his head seriously, she went on.  “It blew down a narrow piece of the paneling in the long gallery—­it is next to my room, you know—­and I heard the noise in the night and lit a candle and went to see.  Some of the window panes are broken, so it is very blustery there in storms.  Well, there was a door behind it—­a secret door!  I was so excited, but I could not keep the candle alight and it was very cold.  I saw nothing was broken—­only the wind had dislodged the spring.  I was able to push it back and pull a little chest against it, and wait till morning.  And then what do you think I found?—­it led to a staircase in the thickness of the wall, which went down and down until it came to a door right below the cellar—­it took me days of dodging Mademoiselle and Priscilla to carry down oil and things to help me to open it—­and then it came out in a hollow archway on the second terrace, which has a stone bench in it, and is where old William keeps his tools.  It is so cleverly done you could never see it; it looks just as if it was no door, but was only there for ornament.  You may fancy I never told anyone!  It is my secret—­and yours now—­and it enabled me to do what I have always longed to do—­go out in the night!”

“You go out in the night all alone!” exclaimed Cheiron, almost aghast.

“But of course,” said Halcyone.  “You cannot think of the joy when there is a moon and stars; and some of the night creatures are such friends—­they teach me wonderful things.  Only the dreadful difficulty is in avoiding Priscilla—­she sleeps in the dressing-room next me.  I love her better than anyone else in the world, but she could never understand—­she would only worry about the wet feet and clothes being spoilt.  I always think it is so fortunate though, don’t you, that servants—­even a dear like Priscilla—­sleep so soundly.  Aunt Ginevra says they can’t help it, every class has its peculiarity.”

Mr. Carlyon was extremely interested—­he wanted to hear more of these adventures.

“How do you avoid Priscilla seeing your things in the morning then?” he asked.

“I have got a pair of big gutta-percha boots—­they were my father’s waders once, and I found them, and have hidden them in one of the chests, and I tuck everything into them—­so there are no marks.  It is enchanting.”