Violet Jacob > Stories told by the miller

144 STORIES TOLD BY THE MILLER
had laid it down at his approach, though she was
in the middle of a song.
“ I never sing to him" she said.
It was a pleasant time they spent in the fir-
woods, and Maggie began to think there could
be nothing better than life in the caravan. She
loved the open air and the blue mists, the silver
spider webs and the winking eyes of the little
fires that were lit among the trees at night.
She loved the whispering branches and the red
toadstools and the sceptres of tall ragwort,
that were beginning to fade as the days went
by. She did not want to leave the place,
and, besides that, she did not want to leave
Rhoda.
But early one morning, as she was gathering
wood a little way from the van, she glanced up
to find Rhoda standing before her. Her guitar
was under her arm and a little bundle in her
hand.
“ I have come to say good-bye,” said she.
“ Yes, I am going, and you must not tell any¬
body. I can’t stay any more in our camp. I
shall take my guitar and go and make my living
by singing at fairs, as I have done before. So
I’ve come to say good-bye to you first.”