Once outside, she ran towards the playground, and the grotto, a miniature limestone version of the manor, which was in itself a miniature of a fortress. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpenter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr.
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