Jack and Molly waited a while, then started off down the lane in the direction whence the singing had come, thinking perhaps that the singer had stopped to rest round the corner of the lane. They were right. As they turned the corner they saw someone sitting under a tree at the side of the lane. It was a young girl, a little older than Jack and Molly—such a pretty girl, with grey-green eyes and a straight, white nose, and deep golden hair that curled about her shoulders. Her soft green frock matched the colour of her eyes. She did not notice Jack and Molly at first, as her attention was taken up by the contents of a small wicker basket in her lap: she was peering inside it anxiously, and counting aloud. “Eight, nine, ten,” they heard her say. “Eleven.... Oh, dear, I’ve lost ... no, here it is ... twelve. Oh, that’s right!” She looked up, and saw the children. She gazed up at them, then smiled (such a friendly, sweet smile, Molly thought). “Oh, I ... I didn’t hear you come along,” she said. “We heard you singing,” said Molly. The girl blushed. “I didn’t know anyone was near,” she said. “I often sing when I’m by myself—it’s so lonely, as a rule.” She fastened the lid of her basket down. “We were awfully glad to hear you,” said Jack. “Because, do you know, we haven’t met a soul since we left the East Gate.” “Have you come from the City, then?” asked the girl with much interest, rising to her feet. “Oh, you can’t imagine how lonely it is to live out here. What news is there? What does the City look like now? Oh, I’d give anything to live in the City with crowds of people and lights and shops and—and real pavement.” “Haven’t you got any pavement then in the village where you live?” asked Jack. “I don’t live in a village,” answered the girl. “Its right out here in all this lonely part that mother and I live.” “Near here?” asked Molly. “Yes. Just at the end of the Third Green Lane,” said the girl. “In a house?” inquired Jack. “Yes. Why not?” the girl smiled. “What did you think we’d live in?” “I meant,” said Jack, “it’s not marked on our map; there’s no house marked until you get to the other side of the Goblin’s Heath, and I didn’t think there was one so close.” The girl began to laugh. “Well, there is one, even if it isn’t marked on your map. They don’t mark all the houses, you know. If your way takes you along down this lane you’ll pass the house, and mother would be awfully pleased to see you if you could spare a little while. She rarely gets news of the City or sees anybody.” “We _were_ going along this way,” said Jack. “And we were just wondering if there was anywhere we could get a drink of water, because we’re both so thirsty....” “Thirsty?” said the girl. “Why, here is the very thing!” And she opened her basket and took out a beautiful bunch of grapes. “I had been sent out to gather these from our vine—twelve bunches I’ve gathered. Do have one.” She placed a delicious-looking bunch in Jack’s hands.