"It's a great big place——"
"That's what we're coming to see," I reminded her.
"Of course they may have sold some of the land, or—I mean, I know when I used to stay there it was a—a great big place. I can't promise that it——"
"It's no good now, Celia," I said sternly. "You shouldn't have boasted."
Hilderton was four miles off, and we began to approach it—Celia palpably nervous—at about twelve o'clock that morning.
"Are you recognizing any of this?" asked Peter.
"N-no. You see I was only about eight——"
"You must recognise the church," I said, pointing to it. "If you don't, it proves either that you never lived at Hilderton or that you never sang in the choir. I don't know which thought is the more distressing. Now what about this place? Is this it?"
Celia peered up the drive.
"N-no; at least I don't remember it. I know there was a walnut tree in front of the house."