Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft
leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a
copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon
her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had
lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.

The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt
Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she
stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery.
Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the
chimneys of a red brick house.

Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first
at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:--

"'Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod.
Whose secret heart with influence sweet
Is upward drawn to God.'"




CHAPTER SECOND.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.

"Give me leave to speak my mind."