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It saw the man tearing white and pink paper into very small pieces. Then it saw him bend down and dig a hole in the earth with a clasp-knife. It saw him place the pieces of torn paper in the hole and replace the earth, which he pressed firmly down. Then it heard the man speak.

“At least I will give the past decent burial.”

The robin did not understand the words. What [Pg 7]has a gay little redbreast to do with either the past or the future? The moment is quite enough.

Then the man stood up, and the robin saw his face. It had grown much older in the last twenty minutes.

“And now,” said the man jauntily, though his eyes belied the carelessness of the words, “for the open road.”

Perhaps the robin understood that speech. At any rate it sang a sweet sturdy song of Amen.

CHAPTER I

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Peter was sitting under a hedge, playing on a penny whistle. Behind him was a bush, snowy with the white flowers of the hawthorn. In front of him was a field, warm with the gold of buttercups. Away in a distant valley were the roofs of cottages and a farmhouse. The smoke from one of its chimneys rose thin and blue in the still air. It was all very peaceful, ideally English.