"We must be getting on home," said Lizzie. "I've a lot of cleaning to do this afternoon when I get back. Say good-bye to the ladies, Eric." The little fellow held up his face to be kissed, and Marjorie and Dona hugged him, regardless of spectators on the road. "You dear wee thing, take care of yourself," said Dona. "Call at the kiosk next time you pass, and perhaps another parcel will have arrived from fairyland." "I know who the fairies are!" laughed Eric, as his perambulator moved away. Escorted by the melancholy Hodson, the girls passed a pleasant enough afternoon in Whitecliffe. They visited several shops, and had as good a tea at the cafe as the rationing order allowed, supplementing the rather scanty supply with ices and sweets. It was much too early yet to return to Brackenfield, so they suggested making a detour round the moors, and ending up at school. Hodson acquiesced in her usual lack-lustre manner. "I'm a good walker, miss," she volunteered. "I don't mind where you go. It's all the same to me, as long as I see you back into school by six o'clock. Mrs. Trafford said I wasn't to let you be late. I've brought my watch with me." "And we've got ours. It's all right, Hodson, we'll keep an eye on the time." It was a relief to know that Hodson was a good walker. They felt justified in giving her a little exercise. They were quite fresh themselves, and ready for a country tramp. They left the town by a short cut, and climbed up the cliff side on to the moors. Though they knew Eric would not be there that afternoon, they nevertheless determined to visit their favourite cove. It was an excellent place for flowers, and Dona hoped that she might find a few fresh specimens there. The girls had reached their old trysting-place, and were gathering some cranesbill geraniums, when a figure suddenly climbed the wall opposite, and dropped down into the road. To their immense amazement it was Miss Norton. She stopped at the sight of her pupils and looked profoundly embarrassed, whether at being caught in the undignified act of scrambling over a wall, or for some other reason, they could not judge. "Oh! I was just taking a little ramble over the moors," she explained. "The air's very pleasant this afternoon, isn't it?" "Yes," replied Marjorie briefly. She could think of nothing else to say. Miss Norton nodded, and passed on without further remark. The girls stood watching her as she walked down the road. "What's Norty doing up here?" queried Marjorie. "She's not fond of natural history, and she doesn't much like walks." "She's going towards the village." "I vote we go too."