And she never 'colds me, except when I _am_
naughty--so I _do_ mind."
"She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda in
distress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way
_shall_ we go?"
They had followed the little path till it came to a point where two
roads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran across
the road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda
stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the
moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.
Griselda looked up to the sky.
"To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my way
in a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side of
the moon last night."
The remembrance put another thought into her mind.
"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"
Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in
her own.
She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the
well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so
clear.
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