'I think Mr. Dutton knows,' proceeded Nuttie. 'You don't mean to ask him?' 'Catch me! I know how he would look at me.' 'Slang! A forfeit!' 'Oh, it's holiday time, and the boarders can't hear. There's Mr. Dutton's door!' This might in one way be a relief to Miss Nugent, but she did not like being caught upon the wall, and therefore made a rapid descent, though not without a moment's entanglement of skirt, which delayed her long enough to show where she had been, as Mr. Dutton was at the same moment advancing to his own wall on the opposite side of the Nugent garden. Perhaps he would have pretended to see nothing but for Nuttie's cry of glee. 'You wicked elf,' said Miss Mary, 'to inveigle people into predicaments, and then go shouting ho! ho! ho! like Robin Goodfellow himself.' 'You should have kept your elevation and dignity like me,' retorted Ursula; 'and then you would have had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Dutton climbing his wall and coming to our feet.' 'Mischievous elves deserve no good news,' said Mr. Dutton, who was by no means so venerable that the crossing the wall was any effort or compromise of dignity, and who had by this time joined Mary on her grass plat. 'Oh, what is it! Are we to go to Monks Horton?' cried Nuttie. 'Here is a gracious permission from Lord Kirkaldy, the only stipulations being that no vestiges of the meal, such as sandwich papers or gooseberry skins, be left on the grass; and that nobody does any mischief,' he added in an awful tone of personality. 'So if I see anybody rooting up holly trees I shall be bound to interfere.' 'Now, Mr. Dutton, it was only a baby holly in a chink.' 'Only a holly tree! Just like the giant's daughter when she only carried off waggon, peasant, oxen, and all in her pinafore.' 'It is not longer than my finger now!' 'Well, remember, mischief either wanton or scientific is forbidden. You are to set an example to the choir-boys.' 'Scientific mischief is a fatal thing to rare plants,' said Mary. 'If I'm not to touch anything, I may as well stay at home,' pouted Nuttie. 'You may gather as many buttercups and daisies as the sweet child pleases,' said Mr. Dutton; whereupon she threatened to throw her books at his head. Miss Nugent asked how they were to go, and Mr. Dutton explained that there was only a quarter of a mile's walk from the station; that return tickets would be furnished at a tariff of fourpence a head; and that there would be trains at 1.15 and 7.30. 'How hungry the children will be.' 'They will eat all the way. That's the worst of this sort of outing. They eat to live and live to eat.' 'At least they don't eat at church,' said Nuttie. 'Not since the peppermint day, when Mr. Spyers suspended Dickie Drake,' put in Mary. And the Spa Terrace Church people said it was incense.' 'No. Nuttie!'