“It’s the Abbey you want.” The pleasant hotel-maid smiled down at the girl who had asked a question.
She was interested in these visitors. Their luggage had strange overseas labels, and it was understood that they came from Australia.
“I knew a young chap who went to your part of the world, miss, ” the girl went on. “Sydney, he said.”
Janice Macdonald nodded. “I’ll tell you about Sydney later on, but first I want to hear about this Abbey. I think it’s the place we’ve come here to see.”
She was seventeen, with dark curly hair cut short and waving naturally. Her dark eyes were full of interest as she sat in the window-seat and looked up at the English girl.
“Somebody in Australia told me about England, and said it was lovely in the spring, ” she said. “He knew this part, and he spoke of some old ruins, where monks used to live, and said you could see their bedroom and dining-room, and the place where they did their work during the day. I don’t remember all he told me, but I know it was near Wycombe.”
The maid nodded. “That’ll be Gracedieu Abbey. I haven’t been there, but I know a girl whose sister is in service at the Hall. The Abbey is in the grounds of the Hall.”
“We want to see the Abbey. Is it far from here?”
“You can walk across the hills, but it’s a good step; some miles it’ll be. Or you can go by train and walk up through the village.”
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