for it was full of whisperings that seemed no more than the breathing of the grass, or the sighing of the earth as it turned towards sleep.
Then from out a little copse of dense cedars a low whistle came, deep and flutelike, repeated thrice. It startled, almost frightened her. She stood like a deer, head up, listening, her great eyes fixed on the copse. He was there. She was to meet him there. It was only a very small copse, but a shelter, if he were a shy man. If she did not like him, if he were too forward, or a wretch, well, there was the lagoon. She would throw him in there as she had thrown Perkin into the stream. Full of curiosity now she hurried towards the copse. It was darker in there than she had expected, but in one place there was an opening where the light shone redly, and from just beyond it the whistle sounded, softer and yet more urgent.
She went into the open space and stood there smiling expectantly.
There was a crackling of twigs as someone emerged from the shadows. She drew a step nearer and saw, not a man but a woman, a thickset woman, bare-headed, with untidy grey hair.
It was Mrs. Jessop.
The meeting, the letter, was a hoax. Mrs. Jessop had played her this trick. Her pulses began to beat quickly. Rage flamed in her heart.
"How did you dare?" she said. "You ought to be ashamed. You'd better get out of here before I hurt you. I'll do it and no mistake. I'll give you a proper beating, I will."
Mrs. Jessop stood stock-still now. When she had entered the clearing she had been wearing her broadest grin. Now it changed to her black scowl.
"Now, you slut," she said, "I've got you."
