And she turned away, and through a gate into the meadow.  Grimes stood still a moment, like a man who had been stunned.  Then he rushed after her, shouting, “You come back.”  But when he got into the meadow, the woman was not there.

Had she hidden away?  There was no place to hide in.  But Grimes looked about, and Tom also, for he was as puzzled as Grimes himself at her disappearing so suddenly; but look where they would, she was not there.

Grimes came back again, as silent as a post, for he was a little frightened; and, getting on his donkey, filled a fresh pipe, and smoked away, leaving Tom in peace.

And now they had gone three miles and more, and came to Sir John’s lodge gates.  Grimes rang at the gate, and out came a keeper [Footnote:  A keeper is a man appointed, on a large estate, to see that no one trespasses on the grounds or poaches the game.] on the spot, and opened.

“I was told to expect thee,” he said.  “Now thou’lt be so good as to keep to the main avenue, and not let me find a hare or a rabbit on thee when thou comest back.  I shall look sharp for one, I tell thee.”

[Illustration.]

“Not if it’s in the bottom of the soot bag,” quoth Grimes, and at that he laughed; and the keeper laughed and said:  “If that’s thy sort, I may as well walk up with thee to the hall.”

“I think thou best had.  It’s thy business to see after thy game, man, and not mine.”

So the keeper went with them; and, to Tom’s surprise, he and Grimes chatted together all the way quite pleasantly.  He did not know that a keeper is only a poacher turned outside in, and a poacher a keeper turned inside out.

They walked up a great lime avenue, a full mile long, and between their stems Tom peeped trembling at the horns of the sleeping deer, which stood up among the ferns.  Tom had never seen such enormous trees, and as he looked up he fancied that the blue sky rested on their heads.  But he was puzzled very much by a strange murmuring noise, which followed them all the way.  So much puzzled, that at last he took courage to ask the keeper what it was.

He spoke very civilly, and called him Sir, for he was horribly afraid of him, which pleased the keeper, and he told him that they were the bees about the lime flowers.

“What are bees?” asked Tom.

“What make honey.”

“What is honey?” asked Tom.

“Thou hold thy noise,” said Grimes.

“Let the boy be,” said the keeper.  “He’s a civil young chap now, and that’s more than he’ll be long if he bides with thee.”

Grimes laughed, for he took that for a compliment.

“I wish I were a keeper,” said Tom, “to live in such a beautiful place, and wear green velveteens, and have a real dog-whistle at my button, like you.”

The keeper laughed; he was a kind-hearted fellow enough.

“Let well alone, lad, and ill too at times.  Thy life’s safer than mine at all events, eh, Mr. Grimes?”