Driven by the wind, here and there a white-winged gull sailed over their heads,--a cloud of them rested upon a freshly turned little square of ploughed land between two woods.

A flight of pigeons, like torn leaves tossed about by the wind, circled and drifted above them.

Philippa seated herself upon the trunk of a fallen tree and gazed contentedly about her.
"If I had a looking-glass and a few more hairpins, I should be perfectly happy," she sighed.

"I am sure my hair must look awful." Helen glanced at it admiringly.
"I decline to say the correct thing," she declared.

"I will only remind you that there will be no one here to look at it." "I am not so sure," Philippa replied.