sure."
Mary was down again in a minute: she was not tempted to linger at herwindow, as she knew the Cooies would not come there till the morning.She only thought to herself that she would be very glad if Miss Verityproposed her staying at home the next day, while she herself went thelong drive she had spoken of.
"I could be in the forest all the afternoon," she thought.
And that evening, just before she went to bed, it seemed as if her wishhad found its way into her godmother's mind.
"Would you like to go with me to Metherley--the place I have to driveto," she said, "or would you rather stay at home and amuse yourself? Doyou think you could do so? Tell me truly."
"I'm _sure_ I could," said Mary. Then, fearing that her wish to be leftbehind might not sound very polite, she added, "I don't mean that Iwould not like the drive with you, godmother, but I know I should bequite happy if I might go into the forest."
"There is no reason why you should not do so, dear, if it is a fairlygood, dry day--and in the forest it dries so quickly; the moisture soaksthrough the `fir needles' carpet almost at once. And I will tellPleasance to ring the big bell now and then, so that if you shouldpossibly feel at a loss as to your whereabouts, you would soon know."
"Oh thank you," said Mary, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, "that wouldbe beautiful I might fix with Pleasance to ring it twice, perhaps--onceat three o'clock, and once at four. Wouldn't that be a good plan?"
"A very good plan," said Miss Verity. "And you will promise to comehome after you hear the second bell, for it will be getting late andchilly. I shall be back by half-past four or so and quite ready fortea."
"Yes," said Mary. "I'll run home when I hear the four o'clock bell. Itwill be like Cinderella." Then came bed-time, and Mary was glad to goto sleep "for the morning to come sooner."
And when it did come, she jumped out of bed the instant Pleasance awokeher, and hurried to get dressed as quickly as possible, so that shemight have a few minutes at the window with her faithful little friends.
They were true to their promise. Mary had scarcely pushed up the sashwhen she heard their voices, and in another moment they had both hoppedon to the sill.
"Coo-coo," they began, "good-morning, Mary dear. We have been watchingfor you."
"Good-morning, dear Cooies," she said. "I have only a very few minutesbefore the breakfast-bell rings, but this afternoon--"
"We know," interrupted Mr Coo. "You are to be alone, and you have gotleave to be in the forest."
"How _do_ you know?" said Mary, opening her eyes very wide.
Mr Coo shook his head; Mrs Coo held hers on one side.
"Never mind how we know," said Mr Coo. "To begin with, we are `littlebirds'--"
"Not so very little," Mary interrupted.
"--And," Mr Coo continued, without noticing what Mary said, "everybodyknows that little birds hear more than any one else. Besides, we aresuch near neighbours."
"Oh," exclaimed Mary, "that was what I wanted so much to ask you. Doyou live in that dark place in the forest? I mean do you roost there?"
Both the wood-pigeons put their heads on one side and looked ather--"rather funnily," Mary thought to herself, afterwards.
"We roost close to your garden," said Mr Coo. "What you call the darkplace in the forest is not what you think it."
Mary listened eagerly.
"Do tell me about it," she said.
"There is not time just now," Mrs Coo replied. "Besides--" and sheglanced at Mr Coo.
"We hope to do much better than tell you about it," he said. "We meanto _show_ it to you--that is what we want to settle about. You mustmeet us in the forest as soon as you go out this afternoon."
"Yes," said Mary. She was beginning to find out that the best way withthe Cooies was to agree with their plans and never to argue with them.For sooner or later, somehow or other, they carried out what theysettled, and as she was by no means sure that they were not half orthree-quarters "fairies," she did not mind giving in to them, littlebirds though they were.
So "yes," she said, "I have got leave to go into the forest immediatelyafter luncheon, and if you will tell me where to meet you--"
"You need do nothing but walk straight on through the gate from thisgarden," said Mr Coo. "We shall manage all the rest. It is not goingto rain, you need not be afraid," he added, seeing that Mary wasglancing up rather anxiously at the sky.
"I'm so glad," she replied, with a sigh of relief, and just then thebreakfast-bell rang.
"Good-bye, dear Cooies, good-bye till this afternoon," she exclaimed asshe ran off, and the soft coo-coo sounded in her ears on her waydownstairs.
"Dear me," said Myrtle to Pleasance, as they met on the landing, "justhearken to those wood-pigeons. They might be living in the house. Inever, no never, have known them come about so, as just lately. Theyseem as if they knew Miss Mary was here, and were particular friends ofhers," and the old servant laughed at her own joke.
The morning passed as usual. Mary did her best to give her attention toher lessons, which as a rule she found no difficulty in doing, for hergodmother's pleasant teaching was so interesting and often indeed soamusing that it did not seem like lessons at all. But this morning herhead was running so much on what her Cooies had said and promised, thatmore than once Miss Verity had to ask her what she was thinking about.
"Is it your afternoon in the forest that you are dreaming of?" said hergodmother. "Are you intending to explore it and make wonderfuldiscoveries?"
Mary grew rather pink.
"Godmother," she replied, "you have such a way of guessing what I amthinking about! I never knew any one like you for that."
Miss Verity smiled.
"You need not mind," she said. "I have not forgotten about my owndreams and fancies when I was a little girl like you. Perhaps they werenot altogether dreams and fancies, after all. However that may havebeen, they did me no harm, and I don't think yours will do you any harmeither."
"Were some of them about the forest?" asked Mary, rather shyly.
Miss Verity nodded.
"Yes," she replied, "I think they nearly all had to do with the forest.You know--or perhaps you don't know--that this was my own old home,long, long ago, when I was a very little girl. Then, when I was nearlygrown-up, we left it, and I did not see it again for many years. But italways seemed `home' to me, and you can imagine my delight when I heardit was again to be sold and I was able to buy it for my very own. And Ihope to end my days here, at the edge of the dear forest I love sowell."
Mary listened with great interest. She thought to herself that shewould soon get to feel just as her godmother did about Dove's Nest.
"Especially," she added in her own mind, "as the forest is the Cooies'home."
"Now, let me hear you go over that page of French again," said MissVerity. "You will enjoy your afternoon all the more if you have doneyour best this morning."
As she said this, a low "coo-coo" caught Mary's ear. It was soft andfaint--perhaps it came from some little distance--perhaps it was verylow on purpose, so that no one but herself should hear it. But she knewwhose voice it was; she knew too what the Cooies' advice would be, so,though it called for some effort on her part, she determined to leaveoff thinking of anything but the matter in hand, and gave her fullattention to her French reading. And by the end of her lesson time shefelt well rewarded when her godmother told her she had done "very wellindeed."
The day had grown steadily brighter. When luncheon was over, MissVerity went upstairs almost immediately to put on her out-door things,and Mary waited in the porch to watch for the ponies coming round and tosee her godmother start.
Jackdaw and Magpie seemed very bright and eager to be off, and theylooked so pretty that for a moment or two Mary half regretted that shehad asked to be left behind. But just as she was thinking this, sheheard again the voice from the trees, "coo-coo," and she looked up witha smile.
"Oh my dear Cooies," she said, "you are getting _too_
clever! I believeyou know what I am thinking even--but you need not remind me of ourplans, and you needn't be afraid that I _really_ want to go a driveinstead of staying with you."
Then she heard her godmother coming downstairs, and as Miss Verity gotinto the pony-carriage she nodded brightly to Mary.
"Good-bye, dear," she said. "Be sure you enjoy yourself, but don'tforget to run home when you hear the bell for the second time."
Mary nodded. "I won't forget," she said.
Then the ponies tossed their heads, as if to say good-bye, and startedoff briskly, their bells tinkling clearly at first, then more and morefaintly as they trotted away, till at last they were not to be heard atall.
Mary gave herself a little shake. She had been standing listening in ahalf dreamy way. Now she ran across the lawn and through thewicket-gate and into the wood as quickly as she could go. But once shewas well among the trees she walked more slowly; somehow she never feltinclined to run very fast in the forest or to talk loudly. There wassomething soft and soothing in the air, in the gentle rustle high upamong the branches and the uncertain light, a feeling of "mystery," toput it shortly.
"I wonder," said the little girl to herself, "I wonder if it all lookedjust as it does now when godmother was like me and strolled about thepaths. I wonder if it will look just the same when I get to be quiteold, as old as dear godmother is now. I wonder if it will look thesame--let me see--a hundred years from now."
"It will not take a hundred years for you to be an old woman," said avoice close to her ear.
Mary gave a little start. Then, glancing up, she saw the twowood-pigeons perched on a low-growing branch just where she was passing.They had not been there a moment or two before, she was certain, andshe felt a little vexed with them--with Mr Coo, at least, for she nowknew their voices well enough to distinguish that it was he who hadspoken to her--for startling her.
"Of course it won't," she replied rather crossly. "I am not so silly asall that. I shall be quite old in fifty years, or less than that Iwasn't thinking of godmother's age when I wondered about a hundred yearsfrom now, nor about myself either, and if you please, Cooies, when youguess what I am thinking in my own mind, please guess the whole, and notodd bits."
"All right," said Mr Coo.
"No," said Mary, "I think it's all wrong when you get into that teasingway."
"He doesn't mean it, my dear," said Mrs Coo, who was always apeacemaker, "but perhaps you are tired to-day. Would you rather not--"
"Oh," interrupted Mary, "if you are going to say would I rather not goto see that secret part of the forest, please don't say it. Of courseI'm not tired or anything. I've just been _longing_ to come."
"Well then," said Mr Coo, "listen, Mary, and I will tell you exactlywhat to do. Walk straight on till you come to the place where you stoodstill with your godmother yesterday and looked at the dark part amongthe trees. Then glance about you on the left, and after a little youwill perceive lying on the ground a small grey feather. Note well thespot where it lies, then pick it up and fasten it on to your cap in thefront."
"My cap," exclaimed Mary, putting up her hand to her head, "my hat, youmean--oh no, by the bye, I have my little fur cap on. How quickly younotice everything, dear Cooie! I remember thinking that my cap would bemore comfortable for getting in and out among the bushes."
The Cooies did not answer, but Mary felt sure that both their heads werewell on one side, which she had found out for them meant a kind ofsmile, and when she glanced at them she saw that it was so.
"Well then," she went on, "I beg your pardon for interrupting you--afterI have stuck the grey feather in my cap?"
"Walk on seven paces from the exact spot--right foot one--left foottwo--_exactly_ seven, you understand. Then stand still and you will seea very small opening in the brushwood and bushes, by this time verythick and close, you know. It will seem almost too small an opening foryou to push into, but don't be afraid. You shall neither scratch yourface nor tear your clothes, I promise you. The only thing you maydislike will be that for a little way it may be very dark--darker thefarther you go, till--"
Mary felt a tiny bit frightened, and this made her interrupt again--
"I wouldn't mind if you were with me," she exclaimed. "Why can't youstay with me now? You might perch on my shoulders, both of you--or Iwill carry you very carefully if you like."
"No," said both the wood-pigeons together, so that their voices soundedlike one, "that would not do. There are rules, you see, Mary. You mustdo part of it for yourself. Don't be afraid--the darkness won't hurtyou, and after a bit you will get out of it, and then--"
"Then, what?"
"You will see _us_, and--a good deal more," was the reply, followed by aslight flutter, and when Mary looked up, both her friends haddisappeared!
CHAPTER EIGHT.
"A LITTLE WHITE GATE."
Mary stood still for a moment or two, gazing after them, or rathergazing at the place where they had been. She felt, as she would havesaid herself, "rather funny"; not frightened exactly, and certainly verycurious to see what was going to happen next, but just a _little_ timidabout making the plunge into the dark mysterious depths of the forest.
But it was now or never.
"If I let myself get silly and run back home, or anything like that,"she thought, "I daresay the Cooies will never care for me again, or cometo see me or show me things. For I can see they are rather obstinate,and of course if they are fairies, or partly fairies, they like to beobeyed--fairies always do. And godmother too--I believe she understandsabout fairies much more than she says--and she always is sure no harmcan come to me in the forest. So I'd better be quick and look outcarefully for the little grey feather."
She walked on therefore, not too fast, for fear of passing the signal,and with her eyes fixed on the bushes on the left. But it seemed to herthat she had walked a good long way, farther than she expected, beforeshe felt satisfied that she had got to the place where Miss Verity andshe had stood the day before.
"Can I have passed it?" she asked herself, "and can I _possibly_ havemissed the feather, or can it have blown away?" and she stopped short,feeling a little anxious.
But just then a very faint "coo" reached her ears; it was scarcely to beheard, more like the shadow of the sound, but still it was plainly infront of her, and it encouraged Mary. She had not come too far, andstepping on again, she soon recognised the spot, and--a little bit onagain, and she gave a tiny cry--there, safely nestling among thebranches, within reach of her hand--was the wee grey, or rather"dove-coloured" feather.
"I might have known it would be all right--and of course anythingfairy-ish _couldn't_ blow away," she thought.
She picked up the feather, and took off her little fur cap, into whichshe fastened it without any difficulty, for though she had no pin--itisn't often, is it, that little girls have pins "handy" when wanted?--itseemed to catch into the skin of the fur, all of itself.
"It reminds me," thought Mary, "of `Up the airy mountain--' that partabout bed jacket, green cap, and white owl's feather--though I certainlydon't want to be stolen away, like little Bridget, for seven years long,even by the Cooies. But I can trust them."
Then she placed her foot exactly below the branch where she had foundthe feather and stepped forward carefully, one, two, three, four--up toseven, and then stood still again.
At first she really thought for a moment or two that the wood-pigeonshad been playing her a trick. The bushes and trees on both sides seemedto have got so very thick and close; she could not see the least sign ofan opening for even a rabbit to get through on either the left or theright! And it felt so cold; so much colder, suddenly, it had become.
"I must go home," thought Mary, feeling ready to cry. "I believe theCooies are imps after all, and not nice fairies. Yes, I'd better gohome," and just at that moment came the sound of the big bell, not veryloud, but quite distinct Pleasance had not forgotten to ring it. "Threeo'clock," thought Mary, "I had n
o idea I had been so long. Yes, I mustturn back."
But--what was that other sound? Again, from among the bushes on theleft, came the soft, encouraging little voice, "coo-coo,"--"don't be sodistrustful, Mary; try again," it seemed to say, and as the little girlstill hesitated a sudden glimmer of light flickered for a moment throughthe branches somehow, down to the ground, and then faded as quickly asit had come.
Mary stooped, and with her hands, well protected in their thick wintergloves, tried to push back some of the leaves. To her surprise they, orrather the branches on which they were growing, yielded to her touch ina wonderful way, as if they had been waiting to be put aside, and thenshe saw before her a very narrow, very dark little path, _but_ a path,though it scarcely looked as if even a little doggie could have made itsway along it! But her spirits had got up again by this time, and shepressed on bravely. It took some courage--it was like walking throughthe very high corn in a very fully grown corn-field, if ever you havedone such a mischievous thing?--only with dark trees overhead, and nolight anywhere scarcely--all gloom instead of