She knew that this mattered very little; her stimulated
excitement was hardly more than salt and pepper to a dish already
appetizing enough, and now and then as she went along the road on a
level with the tree-tops in the gorge and had glimpses of water and of
rock, she had to remind herself of her preoccupation.
She passed big houses with their flowery gardens and then, suddenly
timorous, she decided not to go too far afield. She might get lost,
she might meet nasty people or horned beasts. A little path on her
right hand had an inviting look; it might lead her down through the
trees to the water's edge. It was all strewn and richly brown with
last autumn's leaves and on a tree a few yards ahead she saw a
brilliant object--tiny, long-tailed, extraordinarily swift. It was out
of sight before she had time to tell herself that this was a squirrel;
and again she had a consciousness of development. She had seen a
squirrel in its native haunts! This was wonderful, and she approached
the tree. The squirrel had vanished, but these woods, within sound of
a city, yet harbouring squirrels, seemed to have become one of her
possessions. She was enriched, she was a different person, and she,
whose familiar fauna had been stray cats and the black beetles in Mrs.
Banks' kitchen, was actually in touch with nature. She now felt equal
to meeting unattended cows, but the woods offered enough excitement
for to-day.
She found that her path did not immediately descend.
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