Then she returned to the lake, and sitting down on a green bank, determined to have a good rest before she returned home. She ate her sandwiches and gazed about her. The extreme solitude of the place struck her afresh, and then suddenly she was aware of some one in her proximity. A young girl was sitting amongst the bracken a short way from her, with her back against an old gnarled oak. Anstice afterwards wondered what had made her speak to her. But an impulse for which she could not account made her rise and walk over to her. "Excuse me, but do you know where I could get a glass of milk?" The girl started and jumped up. She was a slim, dark-haired maiden, with fresh colouring, but with refined and delicate features. Her shabby gown and rather untidy hair made Anstice at first take her for some farmer's daughter, but directly she spoke, Anstice discovered her mistake. "I think I can give you some milk, if you will follow me. The farm is the other side of the lake, but it is only a quarter of an hour's walk round the head of it." She led the way to the small stone house near the church. "This is the vicarage. My uncle is the vicar. Will you come in?" "It's very good of you, but I did not mean to trouble you like this." The vicarage inside was dark, and to Anstice seemed depressing. The small sitting-room into which she was ushered was almost monastically furnished. A narrow oaken refectory table was in the centre, and three or four straight-backed chairs were against the wall. A sideboard and two bookshelves in a recess were all the furniture that was in it. The walls were grey, the matting underfoot was a dingy brown. A churchman's almanac was hung against the wall, and one sacred picture depicting the Crucifixion was over the fireplace. The girl had left the room, but soon returned with a glass of milk upon a tray, and a slice of plain currant cake. "How kind of you! What a beautiful spot you live in!" The girl gave a short bitter laugh, and her thick dark brows contracted fiercely. "Beautiful! It's prison to me! I hate it. I was wishing just now I could slip into the lake and get away from it for ever." Anstice was startled. "I don't know which I dislike most," the girl went on impetuously, "the lake, or the mountains, or this house. Visitors come and spout poetry, and rave about the beauty of it all. I wish they knew what it was to live here year in and year out, away from civilization, at the back of beyond." "Tell me about yourself," said Anstice gently. "Shall we come outside again? Have you the time to spare?" "I have time," the girl responded. "I have nothing to do. I sit outside in the summer-time and watch the visitors come and go. I used to offer to show them the church, but some of them spoke to me so rudely and seemed to think I was dogging their steps to get tipped, that I gave it up. Yes, let us come out, this house is too awful!"