THE PARENTS of Mavis, Francis, Kathleen and Bernard were extremely sensible people. If they had not been, this story could never have happened. They were as jolly as any father and mother you ever met, but they were not always fussing and worrying about their children, and they understood perfectly well that children do not care to be absolutely always under the parental eye. So that, while there were always plenty of good times in which the whole family took part, there were also times when Father and Mother went off together and enjoyed themselves in their own grown-up way, while the children enjoyed themselves in theirs. It happened that on this particular afternoon there was to be a concert at Lymington—Father and Mother were going. The children were asked whether they would like to go, and replied with equal courtesy and firmness. “Very well then,” said Mother, “you do whatever you like best. I should play on the shore, I think, if I were you. Only don’t go around the corner of the cliff, because that’s dangerous at high tide. It’s safe so long as you’re within sight of the coast guards. Anyone have any more pie? No—then I think I’ll run and dress.” “Mother,” said Kathleen suddenly, “may we take some pie and things to a little boy who said he hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday?” “Where is he?” Father asked. Kathleen blushed purple, but Mavis cautiously replied, “Outside. I’m sure we shall be able to find him.” “Very well,” said Mother, “and you might ask Mrs. Pearce to give you some bread and cheese as well. Now, I must simply fly.” “Cathay and I’ll help you, Mother,” said Mavis, and escaped the further questioning she saw in her father’s eye. The boys had slipped away at the first word of what seemed to be Kathleen’s amazing indiscretion about the waiting Rube. “It was quite all right,” Kathleen argued later, as they went up the field, carefully carrying a plate of plum pie and the bread and cheese with not so much care and a certain bundle not carefully at all. “I saw flying in Mother’s eye before I spoke. And if you _can_ ask leave before you do a thing it’s always safer.” “And look here,” said Mavis. “If the Mermaid wants to see us we’ve only got to go down and say ‘Sabrina fair,’ and she’s certain to turn up. If it’s just seeing us she wants, and not another deadly night adventure.” Reuben did not eat with such pretty manners as yours, perhaps, but there was no doubt about his enjoyment of the food they had brought, though he only stopped eating for half a second, to answer, “Prime. Thank you,” to Kathleen’s earnest inquiries. “Now,” said Francis when the last crumb of cheese had disappeared and the last trace of plum juice had been licked from the spoon (a tin one, because, as Mrs. Pearce very properly said, you never know)—“now, look here. We’re going straight down to the shore to try and see her. And if you like to come with us we can disguise you.”