Now this was obvious. The girl could not deny it, and an angry light made her brown eyes look reddish as she turned a quick glance on the boy. She checked speech though. Hughie looked back at her curiously. "What did you want to do?" he asked. It appeared that she considered whether to answer or not, and then took the resolution to say something anyway. "I wanted to go somewhere." "Where?" "It does not matter. Anywhere. Salterne, or what is another place--Peterock. I am sick and weary of this place--I wish to see a new one. Surely there is no harm in that?" She said this innocently enough, but in her eyes lay a something that was not so honest as her words. "Why don’t you ask Sir Marmaduke?" asked Hughie. "He’d let you go to Salterne or Peterock with Mrs. Chipman in the car. Why shouldn’t he?" "He would not; it is verboten (forbidden)," said the Countess sharply. "It’s what?" asked Hughie, frowning; he half recognized the sound of the German word, for he had heard Miss Chance helping Christobel with German holiday tasks. "Nothing," answered the Countess quickly. They had crossed in front of the sleeping windows, along the turf edge of the lawn borders. Hughie avoided a straight crossing, because the track on the grey wet spread of grass would be apparent to the whole house. Along the narrow border he scrubbed it out as they went, walking behind his charge for that purpose. When they came to the front door end of the house, and the drive, he told the girl to hurry, and hurried himself--always on the turf edge, this time to avoid the noise of footsteps on the gravel. "You see," he explained, "those open windows up above the front door are Addie’s and Crow’s. We are only in view about two seconds, but you never know." The Countess asked why they couldn’t go out by the kitchen garden door. It seemed that she knew the geography of Bell House grounds. "We can’t get out. Old Hennery Doe takes the keys away when he goes, and let’s himself back when he comes in the morning at half-past six. He doesn’t hold with eight-hour days--he calls it ’silly muck’," said Hughie, adding sagely, "so do I--what’s the sense of stopping just because it’s eight hours, when the fruit is rotting and mice eat the peas. Look at my father--his work is never done. Nobody can stop in the Navy and the Army--how could they? Fancy if the battleships did that sort of thing!" the scorn conveyed by Hughie’s tone was indescribable, and let it be said that on this point the Countess was entirely in sympathy. Hughie opened the gate for her, and, being bare-headed, made a little gesture of salute as she passed through. "I hope you will not catch cold," said the girl; her tone was patronizing, and Hughie recognized it--a sentence culled from Mrs. Jeeps’ conversation came aptly to his mind. "If you will be advised by me, you will remain in your own garden," said he gravely; "and thank you for your good wishes."