So she kept for a mile to the Etterick road, till she came in view of the little stone bridge where the highway spans the moorland waters.
There had been intruders in Paradise before her.

Broken bottles and scraps of paper were defacing the hill turf, and when she turned to get to the water's edge she found the rushy coverts trampled on every side.
From somewhere among the trees came the sound of singing--a silly music-hall catch.

It was a sharp surprise, and the girl, in horror at the profanation, was turning in all haste to leave.
But the Fates had prepared an adventure.

Three half-tipsy men came swinging down the slope, their arms linked together, and bowlers set rakishly on the backs of their heads.

They kept up the chorus of the song which was being sung elsewhere, and they suited their rolling gait to the measure.
"For it ain't Maria," came the tender melody; and the reassuring phrase was repeated a dozen times.