“Oh, sister, it is holidays!” “Well, my dear, you have had a week, and your holiday time cannot last for ever. Looking at your books cannot spoil it.” “Yes, it will; they are so nasty.” “Perhaps you will not always think so; but now you had better put on your hat and your thick boots, for the grass is still very wet, and explore the country. The same advice to you,” she added, turning to the others; “it is warm here, but the dew lies long on the slopes.” “We have got a great deal too much to do,” said Agatha, “for dawdling about just now.” Really, she was chiefly prompted by the satisfaction of not being ordered about; and the other two followed suit, while Magdalen turned away to her household business. They found the housemaid in possession of the bedrooms, so that the unpacking plans could not conveniently be begun; and while Agatha was struggling with the straps of a book box, Thekla burst in upon them. “Oh, Nag, Nag, there is the loveliest angel of a bicycle in the stable, and a dear little pony besides! ‘New tyre wheels,’ he says.” “A bicycle! Well, if she has got it for us, she is an angel indeed,” said Vera. “It is a big one,” said Thekla, “but the pony is a dear little thing; Pixy is his name, and I can ride him! Do come, Flapsy, and see! Earwaker will show you. It is he that does the oiling of Pixy and harnessing the bicycle. I mean—” “Tick, Tick, which does he oil and which does he harness?” said Paula. “That little tongue wants both,” said Agatha. “But do, do come and see,” said Thekla, not at all disconcerted by being laughed at; and Vera came, only asserting her independence by not putting on either hat or boots. Thekla led the way to the stable, tucked under the hill at the back, and presiding over a linhay, as she had already learnt to call the tiny farm-court, containing accommodation for two cows, a pig, and sundry fowls. There was a shed attached with a wicker pony carriage and the bicycle, a handsome modern one, with all the newest appendages, including the “Nevertires,” as Thekla had translated them. But disappointment was in store for Vera. Magdalen came out during the inspection, and was received with— “Sister, you never told us of this beauty.” “It was a parting present from General Mansell,” she said, “and he took great pains to get me a very good one.” “And you bike!” “Oh, yes; I learnt to go out with the Colvins. But I do not venture to use it much here, unless the road is good. Those rocks, freshly laid towards Rockstone, would make regular havoc of the pneumatic tyres.” Vera saw that this was prohibitive, and felt too much vexed to mention Thekla’s version of the same; but Magdalen asked, “Have you learnt?” “They were always going to teach me at Warner Grange, but it always snowed, or rained, or skated, I mean we skated, or something, whenever Hubert had time; but I am perfectly dying to learn.”