"Your safety pin brooch has been found on the Beak cliff and sent to Miss Adelaide Ashington at Crown Hill. Because the initials are ’A.A.’ my mother thinks it must be hers or Lady Shard’s. If you apply to them, no doubt you can get it back.--P". Having read this once or twice and finding it met the case, Pamela folded the note neatly, sealed it with her own little silver seal, and went out. She did not go straight up the road to Woodrising, but across the valley, round through Crown Hill park, into the woods at the inland end, and down the hill from the station. Finding the road clear she rang the gate bell with vigour, handed the message to Mrs. Trewby, with the sentence, "no answer, say, please," and departed--not down the road past Fuchsia Cottage, but back up towards Folly Ho, and over the hill behind on to the Bell Ridge above the church, and so home, down the steep to the Bell House--in time for lunch. The only person she met was Mr. John Badger of Champles, a large and heavy man with the smallest possible twinkling eyes. There was no harm in Mr. Badger--no harm at all, he was a kind man, but he had one weakness and that was gossip. The largeness of his body was the very opposite extreme to the size of his mind--which could not well have been smaller. He was driving sheep from one fenced bit of his fields to another--there was not much for them to eat on the Bell Ridge Downs and they had to be kept to measured allowances or they would have wandered away to look for something better. "All alone, missie?" said Mr. Badger in friendly spirit. "I like walking alone," answered Pamela. "Well, well, no harm can’t come to you these parts. No tramps don’t come up along these ways. You don’t see no strangers about--can’t call Mrs. Chipman to Woodrising a stranger, same as she lived down along Crown Hill some fifteen years." "Oh," murmured Pamela, which was hardly a remark at all, but she felt as though her mind had best remain a blank to all these questions. As for discussing them, she did not wish to think about them, even. "What a lovely view there is from here, Mr. Badger!" she rushed into generalities, "don’t you wonder if sheep see anything? Can they enjoy a view, or do they see nothing at all?" Mr. Badger opined that all the sheep cared about was a "belly-full", which was no doubt very true. Pamela left him gazing after her, and wondering why she had come up there all alone. Mr. Badger saw mysteries and scandals in every movement of his neighbours, which made life very interesting for him.