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Laura broke in. She knew all about Nurse’s friend.

“Please to remember—Fifth of November?” She was puzzled.

“Not only then. Any night. Lights up all the sky—blues and reds, like joolry. Lovely. I’d like to see it close to.”

“Why—may any one go there?” asked Laura casually as they walked towards the beeches. But her indifference was the quivering indifference of a well-trained dog on trust before a lump of sugar.

“Lord, yes! Mother went once.”

“Your mother? Your mother too? Did she?”

“Yes. She went once. Brock’s Benefit. Fine time she ’ad too. Come along, Miss Laura.” She took her by her unwilling hand. “You can look at it after. It won’t run away.”

“Was it——What was it like, Nurse?”

“Well—it’s all glass, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” said Laura. “Like pure gold——Many gates?”

“Oh, I dunno——”

“Twelve, should you think?”

“I dessay. It’s a big place. What, Miss Laura?”

“Twelve thousand furlongs,” Laura was murmuring. She raised her voice. “What else, Nursie?”

“Oh, there’s fountains and parrots and stalls with joolry—that brooch of mine come from there—” (it was a sham moonstone that Laura and Nurse agreed in thinking superb) “and gardens something lovely. Orange trees, my mother said, and trees with tulips on ’em.”