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send a postcard in those long ago happy days) out of a teapot with roses on it and tore one off.

      ‘Can’t you make your minds up, my dears?’ she asked them as they argued over the postcards. ‘Send your granny the church.’

      ‘The one of the inn is nice,’ said Nan.

      ‘Look!’ said Robert. ‘It’s a different sign. Not the horrid bulldog. What is it?’

      ‘A bird,’ said Timothy. ‘A wonderful bird!’

      He bent to look closer, but Emma Cobley quickly took the postcard away and put it back in the cardboard box. ‘That’s a very old postcard,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten I had it. Send your granny the church. That’ll please her, your Uncle Ambrose being Vicar.’ Then as she saw their astonished faces, she said, ‘Emma Cobley knows all about you. It was a boy from across the green who took the message to your granny last night to say you were safe. My door was open and I heard the vicar give the message. And old Tom Biddle who was a-setting in his doorway opposite the Vicarage dining-room window while you were having dinner tells me you’re to stop. Well, my dears, welcome to High Barton, but don’t you never climb to the top of Lion Tor.’

      ‘Why not?’ asked Robert.

      ‘It’s a dangerous place for children,’ said Emma, her bright glance piercing him again. ‘Something nasty might happen to you there. Now you’ve fourpence-ha’penny to lay out on sweets. There’s a lot of sweets can be bought for fourpence-ha’penny.’ And turning round she took from the shelves behind her one glass jar after another filled with sweets of every colour of the rainbow. They looked wonderful standing in a row on the counter, with the light from the window just touching them, far more magical than sweets usually look.

      It was true that in those days a great many sweets could be bought for fourpence-ha’penny. After a heated discussion, which lasted a full ten minutes, they chose a pennyworth of peppermint lumps that looked like striped brown bees, a pennyworth of boiled lemon sweets the colour of pale honey, a penny-ha’pennyworth of satin pralines in colours of pink and mauve, and a pennyworth of liquorice allsorts. And out of pure goodness of heart Emma Cobley added for nothing a packet of sherbet. They did not know what that was, and she had to show them how to put a pinch of the powder on their tongues and then stand with their tongues out enjoying the glorious refreshing fizz. If they had felt any fear of her it vanished with the fizz, and when they looked at the black cat peacefully asleep in the window, he looked so very ordinary that they no longer believed he had been as big as a tiger. They had just imagined it.

      ‘Frederick,’ said Emma, following the direction of their eyes. ‘A sweet cat. A dear, pretty, loving, gentle cat.’

      Though the scratches on his chest were still smarting, Timothy kept silent during this eulogy, but something made him glance at Absolom and he was standing by the door with his tail between his legs, tucked down and in so very firmly it could scarcely be seen, and when Robert opened the door he vanished like a streak of lightning.

      They said goodbye to Emma and went out into the sunshine sucking pralines. They were crisp and crackling on the outside and soft and squishy inside. The moment when the teeth crashed through from the outside was heaven.

      ‘Not too many,’ said Nan. ‘Remember the muffins and strawberry jam. We must leave room.’

      ‘The food’s good here,’ said Robert.

      ‘Everything’s good here,’ said Nan.

      Timothy forbore to mention the cat Frederick. Instead he said, ‘Fancy Uncle Ambrose being Vicar. He’s not dressed right. Grandmama’s vicar had a stiff white piece of cardboard round his neck. Uncle Ambrose wears that white thing.’

      ‘Uncle Ambrose would never dress like all the other vicars,’ said Nan with a touch of pride. ‘Uncle Ambrose would always be different.’

      ‘He said he’d been a schoolmaster,’ said Timothy. ‘How can he be a parson too?’

      ‘Very clever men can be both,’ said Nan. ‘Uncle Ambrose is both. Look. There’s the carrier’s cart.’

      From where they stood munching they could look down the hill towards the Vicarage, and drawn up outside the porch was a covered wagon drawn by a big grey horse. The carrier and Ezra were lifting out their trunks. Betsy’s doll Gertrude and Nan’s sewing basket, Timothy’s box of soldiers and Robert’s water-pistol, all they possessed was in those boxes. Now they knew they had really arrived. Now they knew without any doubt that they were here for good. They stuffed their sweets into their pockets, Robert took Betsy on his back and yelling hurrah they raced down the hill.

      The rest of that day passed like a happy dream. Tea came up to their fullest expectations, with no scrimping of butter on the muffins and the strawberries in the jam large and juicy. It was great fun unpacking their belongings and putting them away in their rooms. For they had two rooms now. Ezra had put sheets on the four-poster in the spare room for Nan and Betsy, and the boys were to sleep in the dressing room opening out of it. At present they only had blankets and pillows on the floor, but they did not mind this because Uncle Ambrose said that presently they would borrow a couple of beds from Lady Alicia, and her name had such a soft silky sound that they were sure they would be comfortable.

      After the unpacking Betsy suddenly said she felt sick, so she was given a cup of warm milk to settle her and put to bed and very soon she was settled and asleep. Her digestion was really very good for her age, but it had been a bit strained that day. The others did not feel sick, but they did feel disinclined for anything solid for supper, so they had milk and biscuits in the kitchen with Ezra, and Absolom had boiled cabbage, and some scraps left over from dinner.

      ‘Since you’ve come to stop,’ said Ezra when they had finished, ‘we must tell the bees.’

      ‘Tell the bees?’ ejaculated Robert. ‘But bees don’t understand when you talk to them.’

      ‘Never let me ’ear you say that again,’ said Ezra sternly. ‘Bees understand every word you say. They be the most wonderful creatures God ever made. If men were to ’ave one-quarter o’ the wisdom o’ the bees this wicked world would be a better place, an’ so I be tellin’ you.’

      ‘We did see the hives this morning,’ said Nan, ‘but we didn’t dare go near.’

      ‘That’s right,’ said Ezra. ‘They don’t like you near till they’ve been told about you. Now come along o’ me. Step quiet and keep civil tongues in your ’eads and be’ave yourselves seemly.’

      He led the way up the garden and Robert, Nan, Timothy and Absolom followed him in single file. The sun had set and the sky was a deep blue, with one star shining above the tall dark church tower. The wallflowers by the beehives smelt wonderful, but in the dim light their deep red had turned to a mysterious velvety darkness. It was very quiet, for the birds and the lambs had gone to bed. The hives were quiet too, with only a few late bees coming home with the last load of honey. When they were all in Ezra brought the children quite close to the hives and touched his forehead in salutation, and Nan curtsied and Robert and Timothy bowed. Absolom lowered his tail and touched the ground with his nose. It came quite naturally to do this. It is what they would have done if they had found themselves suddenly in the presence of royalty.

      ‘Madam queens an’ noble bees,’ said Ezra, ‘there be four children come to bide in this ’ouse, nephews an’ nieces o’ the Master. Their names be Robert, Nan, Timothy an’ Betsy. The three eldest, they are ’ere with old Ezra an’ they’ve made their reverence to ’ee. The little one, she be poorly, but come the mornin’ I’ll bring to make ’er curtsy. There be a dog, Absolom, a good dog. They be good children. ’Ave a care of ’em and let no ’arm come to ’em. ’Ave a care of ’em in the wood and on the ’ill. Good night to you, madam queens an’ noble bees, good night to you from the Master, from ’Ector and Andromache an’ ’er four kittens, from Jason now called Rob-Roy, from Nan, Robert, Timothy an’ the little un that’s poorly. From Absolom an’ from Ezra. Good night all that lives an’ breathes in ’ouse an’ garden, the mice in

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