Her direction lay along the most inviting by-roads and paths; and she let chance direct her feet through this friendly, sunny land where one little hill was as green as another, and one little brook as clear and musical as another, and the dainty, ferny patches of woodlands resembled one another.

It was a delight to scramble over stone walls; she adored lying flat and wriggling under murderous barbed-wire, feeling the weeds brush her face.  When a brook was a little too wide to jump, it was ecstasy to attempt it.  She got both shoes wet and loved it.  Brambles plucked boldly at her skirt; wild forest blossoms timidly summoned her aside to kneel and touch them, but to let them live; squirrels threatened her and rushed madly up and down trees defying her; a redstart in vermilion and black, fussed about her where she sat, closing and spreading its ornamental tail for somebody’s benefit—­perhaps for hers.

[Illustration:  “‘Miss West!’ he exclaimed.  ’How on earth did you ever find your way into my woods?’”]

She was not tired; she did not suppose that she had wandered very far, but, glancing at her watch, she was surprised to find how late it was.  And she decided to return.

After she had been deciding to return for about an hour it annoyed her to find that she could not get clear of the woods.  It seemed preposterous; the woods could not be very extensive.  As for being actually lost it seemed too absurd.  Life is largely composed of absurdities.

There was one direction which she had not tried, and it lay along a bridle path, but whether north or south or east or west she was utterly unable to determine.  She felt quite certain that Estwich could not lie either way along that bridle-path which stretched almost a straight, dark way under the trees as far as she could see.

Vexed, yet amused, at her own stupid plight, she was standing in the road, trying to make up her mind to try it, when, far down the vista, a horseman appeared, coming on at a leisurely canter; and with a sigh of relief she saw her troubles already at an end.

He drew bridle abreast of her, stared, sprang from his saddle and, cap in hand, came up to her holding out his hand: 

“Miss West!” he exclaimed.  “How on earth did you ever find your way into my woods?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Cardemon,” she said, thankful to encounter even him in her dilemma.  “I must have walked a great deal farther than I meant to.”

“You’ve walked at least five miles if you came by road; and nobody knows how far if you came across country,” he said, staring at her out of his slightly prominent eyes.

“I did come across country.  And if you will be kind enough to start me toward home—­”

“You mean to walk back!”

“Of course I do.”

“I won’t permit it!” he exclaimed.  “It’s only a little way across to the house and we’ll just step over and I’ll have a car brought around for you—­”