"Those are the Dene fields," said Alicia, following her glance. "There are two Denes, you know--Dene Village and Dene Fields. There's a couple of miles between them. We are in the hollow, where the road dips, at the foot of Witch Hill." "Witch Hill?" Alicia flourished her whip at the sky-line. The fields were spread over the hillside in sections of chocolate and magenta and silver-green, with here and again a parti-coloured patch, where oats and dandelions, pimpernel and sky-blue flax choked and strangled on an ash-heap. From the slopes Witch Hill lifted a brow of blank white chalk, crowned and draped in woodland, lying against pillows of cloud, for all the world like a hag abed, knees hunched, and patchwork quilt drawn up to ragged eyebrows. Round her neck the road wound like a silver riband; looped, dipped, disappeared, for two unfenced miles--to flash into view but a parrot's flight away, and swerve, with a steep little rush, round a house with French windows thatched in yellow jessamine. Alwynne's eyes lit up. "What a good name! Who was she before she was turned into that?" She stopped, flushing. Alicia would think her stupid. Alicia laughed pleasantly. "Do you like fairy tales? You've come to the right place--the country-side's full of them. There's a fairy fort--Roman I suppose, really, and a haunted barn out beyond Dene Compton, besides Witch Hill and the Witch Wood just behind our house. There's a story, of course. I don't know it--you must ask Roger. He's always picking up stories." "Roger?" "My nephew, Roger Lumsden. Hasn't Elsbeth----?" "Oh yes, of course." "He's away just now. Look, now you can see the house properly." "Behind the hill?" Alwynne had caught sight of a group of buildings crowning a secondary slope. "No, no--that's the school, Dene Compton." "A school?" Alwynne screwed up her eyes to look at it. "What a big place! Girls or boys?" "Both." "Oh! A board school!" Alwynne's interest flagged. "Scarcely!" Alicia laughed. "Haven't you heard of Dene Compton? And you a school-mistress!" Alwynne was politely blank. "The thin end of the co-educational wedge. It's unique--or was, till a few years ago. There are several now, dotted about England. You ladies' seminaries should be trembling in your shoes." "Boys and girls! What a mad idea! Yes, I believe Clare--I believe I did hear something about it. It's all cranks and simple lifers and socialists though, isn't it?" "You'd better come up one day and see. I'll take you." "Why, do you know them?" "I teach there." "You? Oh--I beg your pardon," cried Alwynne strickenly. Alicia laughed. "I'm accustomed to it. Jean will be delighted with an ally. She pretends to disapprove. But Roger and I are generally too much for her." "Is he a master, then?"