The elder ones volunteered to walk, and as the omnibus was considered too shaky for Tom, a fly had been previously ordered, and stood waiting for them.
The light frame of his couch, with his slender form, was easily lifted and placed across the two seats, and they were soon driving along by the edge of the sea before turning up the road which led to the Downs. Tom stretched his neck to see as much as he could, and his mother tried to raise him a little, but he looked so anxious and haggard that she begged him to be satisfied to leave it all till to-morrow. The child lay back exhausted, and the mother's eyes sought the nurse's anxiously.
"He will be better after his tea, ma'am," said Mary, in answer to this look; "and to-morrow I hope he will be quite himself; won't you, dear?"
They were soon mounting the little hill that led to the farm, and Mrs. Arundel said to Mary, "I hope you will not find this very heavy to push him up and down."
"Oh, no, I do not think we shall; we must all help!" answered Mary pleasantly. "You know, ma'am, we can't expect London pavements at South Bay."
"Here we are!" said Mrs. Arundel as they drew up before a gabled whitewashed house, with a gay little garden in front, and wide-open white curtained windows, with old-fashioned tiny diamond lattices.
By the time Tom had been safely lifted out, and the nurse, baby, and Dolly had been introduced to their nursery, there was a sound of voices, and Mrs. Arundel turned to greet her merry party from the station.
"How delicious!" said Ada.
"Delightful!" said Arthur, bounding up.
"This is lovely, mamma!" said Nellie.