Snakes and water-rats were the only definite objects of terror that occurred to her; and, as she had never seen a specimen of either of these animals, they were not very present to her imagination. She did not know what she was afraid of, but for the first time in her life she knew what fear was. She stood quite still at the turn of the little foot track, suddenly afraid to go to the right or the left; her heart beat, her breath came in gasps, tears filled her eyes, and she burst out crying like a baby--she, who never cried except from bad temper or toothache, cried with fear. Suddenly a rapid, light step ran down the track, and Geraldine Cunningham, in her blue cotton frock, and a basket in her hand, came into view. "Why! Florence Whittaker! What's the matter?" "I've--I've lost my way, Miss; I can't get out!" sobbed Florence, still too much scared to be ashamed of her fright. "Lost your way! Dear me, you're standing in the way back to Warren's lodge. Come, don't cry, I'll show you." "Oh, thank you, Miss," said Florence with unwonted meekness, and wiping her eyes. Then, recovering a little, "I'm a great silly, but the trees is so tall, and there ain't nobody about." "Why, that's the beauty of it," said Geraldine. "One couldn't run about in the wood if there _was_ anybody about. But it's just like the garden, nobody ever comes here." As Geraldine said this in her clear, outspoken voice, a tall man came into view along the opposite track: he was dark and slight, and dressed in a rough suit that might have belonged to anyone, gentle or simple, in a country place. "We'll go on," whispered Geraldine, straightening herself up, and taking Florence by the hand. The man came up to the two girls and looked at them rather keenly; then he touched his hat, and said: "Excuse me, young ladies, can you tell me the way out of the wood?" "Yes," said Geraldine, with her straightforward gaze; "if you go straight back and turn to the right, you'll come into the Raby road." The stranger lingered a moment as if he would have liked to say more, but contented himself with saying rather oddly, "Thank you--Miss," and walking away. "How very odd!" said Geraldine, "that there _should_ be a stranger in the wood. Who can he be?" "He was very civil in his speech," said Florrie. "Yes; but the wood's private; he oughtn't to be here. Come along, Florence, we'll tell Mr Warren we saw him." The two girls talked a little as they walked on together, Florence feeling suddenly shy, and as if she had nothing to say for herself. Presently, as they came near the lodge, they met Wyn, looking hot and hurried. "Oh, if you please, Miss Geraldine," he said, touching his cap, "you haven't seen anything like a letter lying about in the forest?" "A letter in the forest? Why, Wyn, how ever could a letter get there?" "I've lost one, ma'am, as a man gave me for Mr Edgar, and I'm going to look for it again."