‘And that means,’ added Rollo, ’an intimate knowledge of their natures, and an affectionate care for their interests; a sympathetic, loving, watchful insight and forecast.’

Wych Hazel gave him a little nod of approval.

‘Don’t you see, sir?’ she went on eagerly.  ’You must have a bent tree now and then, because it is twice as interesting as the straight ones.  And if you cut down all the bushes, Mr. Falkirk, you will clear me out,’ she added, laughing up in his face.

‘You might grant her so much, Mr. Falkirk,’ said the other gentleman.  ’A bent tree now and then; and all her namesakes.  Certainly they ought to stand.’

M. Falkirk’s answer was to take a few steps to a large white pine tree, and make a huge dash of white chalk upon its broad bole.  Then he stepped back to look again.  Action was more in his way than discussion to-day.  Rollo began to get into the spirit of the thing; and suggested and pointed out here and there what ought to come down and what ought to be left, and the reasons, with a quick, clear insight and decision to which Mr. Falkirk invariably assented, and almost invariably in silence.  Deeper and deeper into the wood they worked their way; where the shade lay dark upon the ferns and the air was cool and spicy with fragrance, and then where the sunlight came down and played at the trees’ foot.  For a while Wych Hazel kept pace with their steps; advising, countermanding, putting in her word generally.  But by degrees she quitted the marking work, and began to flit about by herself; plunging her little fingers deep into moss beds, mimicking the squirrels, and—­after her old fashion—­breaking out from time to time into scraps of song.  Now Mr. Falkirk’s ears were delighted with the ringing chorus: 

’Wooed and married and a’—­
‘Wooed and married and a’;
’Wasna she vera weel aff
‘That was wooed, and married, and a’?

Then a complete hush seemed to betoken sudden recollection on the singer’s part; that was quite too private and confidential a matter to be trilled out at the top of one’s voice.  Presently again, slow and clear like the tinkle of a streamlet down the rocks, came the words of Aileen Asthore: 

’Even the way winds
’Come to my cave and sigh; they often bring
’Rose leaves upon their wing,
’To strew
’Over my earth, and leaves of violet blue;
‘In sooth, leaves of all kinds.’

It was a very sweet kind of telegraphing; but the two gentlemen, deep in the merits of a burly red oak, took no notice how suddenly the song broke off, nor that none other came after it.  And when at last they bethought themselves of the young lady truant, and stopped to listen where she might be, they heard a murmur of tongues very different indeed from the silvery tones of Wych Hazel.  And somewhat hastily retracing their steps, came presently into distant view if an undoubted little court, holden easily in the woods.