"Yes," chuckled Charity. "I think disasters are more exciting than pleasures. I almost wish we could have some at the Cottage. Mrs. Cox used to have a lot happen to her, but we never did!"
"Would you like to be tossed by a furious bull? We have one in a field by himself, he's a bad-tempered brute."
"Oh, no," cried Faith. "I don't like disasters at all; we have come out to enjoy ourselves. It's when we're very dull, we wish for accidents and things of that sort."
"I'll do my best to prevent you feeling dull," the Pirate said.
The Towers was a bigger house than Sir George's, but the children all agreed it was a gloomy looking place. The shrubberies and evergreen oaks round it overshadowed it, ivy crept up the stone walls, but no climbing roses or jessamine or any sweet scented creeper. In front of the house was a tiled garden with fountains and stone vases; the weeds grew apace everywhere, and there were only flowering shrubs, no bright flower beds.
Still it was lovely to explore, there were so many winding paths and walled gardens.
For an hour the little girls were absolutely happy, rambling about the grounds and seeing all that the Pirate could show them. Then he took them into the house, through a big stone hall, into a very comfortable smoking-room, where, he told them, he always lived, and where tea was now laid out on a square table.
"What a lot of rooms you have," said Charity; "don't you use them all?"
"No, most of them are shut up. It's a barrack of a place, and wants a large family to occupy it."
"You've got too big a house," said Hope thoughtfully, "and we have too little a one. We're dreadfully crowded. We have to be so tidy, that it takes up all our time putting our things away!"