Page:An orchard princess (IA orchardprincess00barbiala).pdf/19



Bistre's. A cloud of tiny yellow butterflies arose in front of him and settled to earth again when he had passed. A bluebird sang lustily on a nearby tree, observing the passer curiously with head held perkily on one side. Presently the lane began to ascend the hill, and Miles's limbs protested lazily. Seating himself on a wall where the top stones had hospitably fallen into the orchard, he found his pipe and pouch and began leisurely to fill the blackened bowl, while his gaze wandered idly over the meadow, the curving road, and the line of cottages basking in the morning sunlight. Bistre, after nosing about along the walls in half-hearted search for mice or squirrels, sank down at the man's feet and observed him questioningly with the tip of his pink tongue showing between his teeth. When the pipe was