"Oh! how wonderful! It's a _dell_--a glade--a fairy glade! The unexpectedness of it! Only a few yards from those beds of geraniums! One feels as if anything like a house or bedding-out plants must be at the other end of the world... And down there the little stream..." She lifted her head with a sudden glance of inquiry. "The stream grows wider surely--there are stepping-stones--at the end there's a lake. I am _sure_ there is a lake--!" Before Piers had time to reply, Jean had interrupted with a quick exclamation: "Vanna! How did you know? How did you guess? You have never been here before?" "Perhaps Miss Strangeways thinks that she has. Have you visited our glen in another incarnation, Miss Strangeways, that you remember its details so distinctly?" Vanna shook her head. "No; I have never known that feeling. One hears of it, but it doesn't come to me. It's more like--_expectation_. I seemed for the moment to see ahead. It must really be a fairy glen, for there's enchantment in the air. Something--something is going to happen here. I feel it! Something _good_! We are going to be happy!" Piers looked at her curiously, but Jean remained charmingly matter-of-fact. "Of course we are, and we are going to begin at once. Let's sit down and talk. It's cool tinder these trees, and I'm sleepy after lunch. So you don't remember being here before, Vanna? How stupid of you! You must have a very short memory. We've played here together scores of times, when there was no white house, and no smooth lawn, and the grandparents of these old trees were gay young saplings. I was a wood-nymph, and danced about with the other nymphs all day long, and flirted with the elves--elves are masculine, I'm sure! and feasted on nuts. (That habit lasts. I adore them still.) When winter came, I curled up into a tight little ball in the hollow of an oak, and slept till spring came back. Where is that old oak, I wonder? I long to meet it again. And all the long summer days we ate wild strawberries, and drank out of the stream, and played hide-and-seek among the trees. And one day, Piers, _you_ came along--do you remember? I peered out from behind the leaves, and saw you coming." "I was not an elf then--one of the number who was honoured by your attentions?" "Oh, dear me, no! Nothing so frivolous. You an elf! You were a woodcutter with a solemn face, and a long white beard, and a big strong axe, and you came trespassing into my glade with intent to kill my dear tree friends. But I circumvented you. When you took up your axe I swung on the branches till the sunshine danced on your eyes, and dazzled them so that you could not see." "The same old trick! I seem to have no difficulty in remembering you in that guise. It has a flavour of to-day."