A heavy network of boughs hid the valley above him. Otherwise he had observed the only other occupant of the spot, where sat Margery on her favourite ledge, now only just clear of the water. The pool beneath her remained calm no more, but was alive and dancing and deep. The bottom had disappeared in the peat-soaked current, and little argosies of spume trembled here with bursting bubbles, while half the backwater was hidden under the honey-coloured churnings of the river. Her favourite, smooth reaches were no longer smooth; her laughing stickles were drowned. All heaved and rolled with unwonted weight of waters, and against the deep baying of the river, Margery's puppies lifted their shrill yap. Above her crossed the arms of oak and ash; upon the banks the fern was down and the tawny brakes spread sodden purple under much rain. Beneath this point, Auna narrowed to a cleft, where an augmented waterfall now tumbled into the gully below. Margery sat and brooded, for the day was one of eventful character in her life. To-morrow her reign as kennel-maid at Red House would end; she was to return home and not reappear until after her marriage. Happiness dominated her mind; yet there were regrets. Never again would she wear doublet and hose; and that grieved her, for she loved this attire and marvelled why women should be denied such seemly and convenient raiment. It was a small thing, yet not to be relinquished without sighs. And she would be queen of the puppy dogs no more. The busy, russet creatures, growing sturdy now and ripe for discipline, still made her the centre of their activities and joys. Their eyes were ever uplifted to her, for she was their god--the benignant power that ordered their world, chastened them, cheered them and encouraged them, applauded them, made games for them, flung fir cones for them, consoled them in disaster, shared their joy, filled their little, ever hungry bellies. Now they nosed her and squeaked into her ears, while she sat with elbows on knees and chin in hands as motionless as the grey stones. "Oh, you duckies!" she said aloud, "how am I going to say good-bye to you even for six weeks? But half of you will be sold and out in the world before I come back." She pushed them away and the pups scattered to pursue their pleasure. They were wide awake to the meaning of water and she felt no fear for them, but concentrated on herself and the days to come. There stole into her heart a feeling that the past had been too good to continue long. "It isn't often what's good turns into what's better," thought Margery. "My days can't be so perfect for ever, if what mother says is true." Then suddenly, without one preliminary monition, Mrs. Huxam's prophecy was confirmed, and the rag of many colours that men call life rent for Margery and revealed a new thing.