“Probably beech,” said Sir Richmond.
“Which may have pointed to the midsummer sunrise,” said Dr. Martineau, unheeded.
“These are novel ideas,” said the father of the family in the reproving tone of one who never allows a novel idea inside his doors if he can prevent it.
“Well,” said the young lady, “I guess there was some sort of show here anyhow. And no human being ever had a show yet without trying to shut people out of it in order to make them come in. I guess this was covered in all right. A dark hunched old place in a wood. Beech stems, smooth, like pillars. And they came to it at night, in procession, beating drums, and scared half out of their wits. They came in there and went round the inner circle with their torches. And so they were shown. The torches were put out and the priests did their mysteries. Until dawn broke. That is how they worked it.”
“But even you can’t tell what the show was, V.V.” said the lady in grey, who was standing now at Dr. Martineau’s elbow.
“Something horrid,” said Anthony’s younger sister to her elder in a stage whisper.
“Bluggy,” agreed Anthony’s elder sister to the younger, in a noiseless voice that certainly did not reach father. “Squeals!....”
This young lady who was addressed as “V.V.” was perhaps one or two and twenty, Dr. Mar-
