"Quite sure, grandfather. You know one can see far around from the standing stones, and not a creature was in sight. But Dame Sprat guessed at once that something was the matter. She gave me one of her blankets, which she said would keep some poor creature warm. She told me she should be glad to shelter such an one if it were thought safe for him: and I have been thinking, grandfather—" "Well, say on, child," said Master Evans, as Winifred hesitated; "thy thoughts are mostly to the purpose." "I think, grandfather, that since she is willing, Dame Sprat's cottage is the best place for the stranger. You know she has no visitors but ourselves, and it is a lonely place, where there are no passers-by. The dame has a small out-house where she keeps her turf. The gentleman might hide there during the day, and if pursuit came, he could flee into the waste, where he would have a much better chance of escape than where he is now. When I go to carry the dame's meal and milk, I would carry enough for both, and no one need be the wiser." "The plan seems a good one," said Master Evans, after some consideration. "No place could be found more solitary, and the dame is as true as steel, and a wise woman besides. But who will be his guide to the cottage, and when? The barley must be carried to-morrow, if the day be at all fair, and I have bid the men be in the field by daylight. There seems to be no time." "I will guide him," said Winifred, "and to-night. The moon is almost full, and there are no clouds. I will wrap myself in my gray cloak, and steal along by the hedge. No one will be abroad, and if any one should chance to see me, he will take me for a fairy," she added, smiling. "Then, to-morrow I can go up to the Hall as usual, to take my lesson of Mrs. Alwright. My lady always walks in the maze before dinner, and I can wait and speak to her there. I know the way. I have been there before to gather the rose-leaves and violets for Mrs. Alwright. And if any of the servants see me, they will think me about some such business." "The child is too wise for her years!" said Magdalen. "But, my dear one, I cannot have thee abroad in the lonesome fields at night, and with a stranger whom no one knows." "I think there is no danger, mother; at least not so much as in leaving the matter till to-morrow. Nobody would harm a child like me, especially when she came to do him a service." "Alas, poor child! You know little of the wickedness of this world. I could find it in my heart to wish you should never know more than now!"