asked Mrs. Chrystal from her doorstep, as that hero, a wisdom-bitten veteran of the Great War, which had ended before William began—that is to say Class 1920 was never called up—ushered June into the chariot with rare solemnity.
"Back did you say, ma'am?" said Mr. Mitchell closing the door gently upon the travellers. "There you have me. We've to go as fur as the heart o' Suffolk and back again."
Mrs. Chrystal knew that. Hence the question.
"Accordin' to this map," Mr. Mitchell pointed to the canvas back of Road Guide Number 6, Series 14, which was on the vacant seat beside his own, "Crowdham Market may take a bit o' findin'. Still if the roads are all right, I dessay we'll be home by the risin' o' the moon."
"My reason for asking is that I'm wondering about the young lady's supper. However, I'll expect you when I see you, because as you say Crowdham Market may be a funny place to get at."
In the opinion of June, who heard this conversation, Mrs. Chrystal was fully justified in thinking so. They were about to start on a journey to Cloud Cuckoo Land.
A very romantic journey it was. Up hill and down dale they went, by devious lanes and unsuspected ways across a noble sweep of country. Zephyrs played gently upon their faces; the sun shone, the birds sang; the smooth-gliding car made little dust and less noise; they sat side by side; it was a royal progress.
The Idea itself was William's, June always maintained, that they should go to Crowdham Market and find the poor old woman who kept the tumbledown
