long chase than she had thought, and beginning to feel a few aches due to her jarring tumble over the wall. She tramped steadily onward, nevertheless, Dick riding on her shoulder and the bundle of eggs tucked under her arm. It was of awkward shape and size, and would slip no matter how she held it.
The path along the river did not seem to be taking her in the direction of home and it was discouragingly rough and stony. She sat down to rest, with her feet dangling over the bank above the water and began to think over what she had been hearing.
"Everybody who knows Miss Miranda seems to want to make her happy," she reflected, "and the strange thing is that nobody can!"
She sat for some time listening to the cool splashing water slip away below her feet, then with a sigh got up to go onward.
"I think I'd better take a short cut across the fields," she decided. "It won't be half so far and I'm sure I can find the way. If only I don't drop the eggs."
The flight of a crow is supposed to be a direct route, but not the way of a crow pursued by a flock of his jealous kin. The chase that Dick had led her had been so crooked and confused that it was difficult indeed to find which was the shortest way home. She pushed through hedges, hurried down by-paths,
