"Oh, I'm so sorry! Do you feel ill?"
"No. I'm all right—but it's rather rotten, for I'm knocked off 'footer'."
"How sickening for you! I know how wild I should be if I mightn't play hockey. What may you do?"
"Only just loaf about—not even golf."
"May you go walks?"
"Oh, yes! but it's rather slow mooning about on the moors by oneself."
"Have you been to see Stack Head, where the sea-birds build? Or the chasms? Oh! you ought to go there! I'll show you the way if you like!"
"I wish you would!"
"There'd be heaps of time this morning—that's to say if I may go," added Gwen, suddenly recollecting that she had promised Beatrice on her honour not to go anywhere without leave. "Oh, here's Dad, so I can ask him."
"Yes, by all means take Dick to Stack Head, the walk will do him good," replied Mr. Gascoyne. "Be careful, and don't scramble about too much, that's all—those cliffs are dangerous, remember!"