We both laughed.

"That's better," said my companion. "I couldn't bear to see you so
worried this beautiful morning."

"My dear," said I, "you've a nice kind heart, and I thank you."

"Don't mention it," said Miss Deriot.

From the crown of her broad-brimmed hat to the soles of her buckskin
shoes she was the pink of daintiness. Health was springing in her fresh
cheeks, eagerness danced in her eyes, energy leapt from her carriage.
Had she been haughty, you would have labelled her "Diana," and have done
with it; but her eyes were gentle, and there was a tenderness about her
small mouth that must have pardoned Actæon. A plain gold wrist-watch on
a black silk strap was all her jewellery.

"We'd better strike across the next field," said Miss Deriot. "There's a
path that'll bring us out opposite _The Thatcher_. It'll save us about
five minutes."

"You might have been born here," said I.

"I was," said Agatha. She nodded towards a beech wood that stood a
furlong away. "The trees hide the house. But we left when I was seven,
and only came back to the County five years ago. And here's our field."

The five-barred gate was padlocked. I looked at my companion.

"Shall I get over, advance ten paces, and gaze Into the middle distance?