"All right," called back Amethyst, as the queer little party set off, the old woman supported by Elsa’s strong, young arm on one side and her stick in her right hand, while Amethyst carried the handkerchief bundle. "We shan’t wait after half-past three, whatever happens," shouted Monica, "so if you’re later than that, go straight to Carson Rise." "Oh, we shall be there in time," returned Amethyst, and the trio disappeared round a turn in the pathway. "What a fuss about nothing," said Olive, as the girls returned to their seat by the river, and Monica fastened Hero to the trunk of a tree. "Yes, perfect twaddle I call it," returned her friend; "but there, if they like to do it, it doesn’t matter to us." And she took up the book she had flung down in her hurry, and hunted about for her place. "Babyish sort of story this," she added, as she turned over the pages, "nothing at all exciting in it. How do you like yours, Olive?" "Oh, pretty fair; it’s rather childish, too, but mother is very particular about what we read; she won’t let us girls look at a novel." "Grandmother never troubles about what I read," said Monica. "I’ve got some jolly books at home, I’ll show them to you after tea. I am reading one now that I wanted to bring out with me, but that little Amethyst’s eyes are as sharp as needles, and she might have picked it up. I must lend it to you when I’ve done. It’s an awfully jolly story called A Cruel Fate." "It sounds nice," said Olive, "but if it’s a novel, mother won’t let me read it." "Surely you don’t have to show her everything you read?" cried Monica, and there was a suggestion of scorn in her tone, which touched a weak spot in Olive’s nature; she could not bear being sneered at. "Of course not," she replied hastily. "Well, you shall have it later on." And then the conversation dropped, and they went on reading. Meanwhile, the progress that the old granny and and her two young companions made was very slow. The sudden, unexpected appearance of the big dog had really upset her, and she was very shaky and nervous still. By the time half a mile had been traversed, her feeble steps began to flag, and it was only by dint of resting very often, and leaning very heavily upon one or other of the girls, that at length the daughter’s cottage was reached. Elsa and Amethyst were by no means sorry when their task was over. They had not thought it would be such a tedious journey, and they were very glad when they had left the old woman safely ensconced in an armchair by Mrs. Hodges’ fireside, while that worthy followed them to the gate, overwhelming them with thanks for their very great kindness to her old mother. "I’m sure, miss, we never can thank you both enough," she repeated again and again, as she held the little green gate open for them to go through. "Please don’t say any more," replied Elsa, earnestly; "we were very glad to do what we could to help your mother."