’Upon my word, Rollo!’—­said the other gentleman.

’Ah, that touches you, Mr. Falkirk!  You don’t deserve it—­but you may have some.  And I will be generous—­Mr. Falkirk, here is a wing of the robin.’

‘No, thank you,’ said the other, laughing.  ’Why these are fine!’

‘Is the air fine out of doors, Mr. Rollo?’ asked the young lady.

‘Nothing can be finer.’

‘What you call “strong,” sir?’

’Strong as a rose—­or as a lark’s whistle—­or as June sunlight; strong in a gentle way; I don’t admire things that are too strong.’

’Things that you think ought to be weak.  But I was trying to find out whether your private collation of air could have taken away your appetite.’

’I think not—­I haven’t inquired after it, but now that you speak of the matter, I think it must have been bread and cheese.’

’And I suppose you tried the strawberries—­just to see if they were ripe.’

‘No, I didn’t, but I will now.’  And coming to Wych Hazel’s side he proceeded to help her carefully and to put a bowl of milk in suggestive proximity to her right hand; then taking a handful himself he stood up and went on talking to Mr. Falkirk.

‘What is your plan of proceeding, sir?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mr. Falkirk.  ’I am puzzled.  The coach goes back to-morrow morning to the foot of the mountain; there is no object in our making such a circuit, if we could get on from here,—­besides the fact that none of us want to go over the ground again; but to get on from here seems out of the question.

‘It seems to me, to stay here is out of the question,’ observed Rollo.

’I don’t see how to help it—­for one night.  The only sole vehicle here is Mr. Miller’s little wagon, and that will hold but two.’

‘So I understand.—­Those strawberries are not bad,’ he said, appealing to Wych Hazel.

’A very mild form of praise, Mr. Rollo.  Harmless and inoffensive—­to berries.  What will you do, then, Mr. Falkirk? seeing there are five of us.’

’I am in a strait.  Could you spend the night here in any tolerable comfort, Wych, do you suppose?’

‘I am at a loss to understand your system of arithmetic,’ observed Rollo.

’Simple addition.  I suppose, sir, I could spend the night here where other human creatures can.  And as I shall take Phoebe with me when I go, will you please arrange with her father?  I told her she could have what wages she liked.’

‘What shall I arrange with her father, Miss Hazel?’

’Why—­anything he wants arranged, sir.  What the wages shall be.’

’Your scheme of travel may be continued to any extent, Miss Hazel, if you continue to do business on an equally logical plan.’

She laughed, a good, honest, merry little laugh, but further direct reply made none.

‘That puff of displeasure blows me fairly away!’ she said, jumping up and floating off to the mill door like any thistle down, on the tips of her toes.