“Never mind them,” said Arthur, “we shall be in the river in a moment, and then we’re close on Fordham Beeches.”
So they sped on their way to where the canal joined the bed of the river, and here the banks were broken and picturesque; great yellow flags, and white star-like lilies grew in the shallow water; and now the great grey boles of Fordham Beeches appeared rising from their carpet of bright brown leaves.
“There are the girls,” said Mysie, waving her hand.
Arthur rested on his oars and tilted his hat back, with a sudden twinkle of consternation in his merry grey eyes:
“I say, Mysie, we’ve forgotten the basket!”
“Oh, my dear Arthur, what shall we do? You called me to look at that horrid little tom-tit just as I was going to give it to you. The strawberries and everything! And they have walked all these miles in the heat!”
“I know,” cried Arthur. “Don’t you say a word. I’ll settle it.”
And as they pulled into the landing and Flossy and Frederica ran down to meet them he called out:
“I say, Flossy, get into the boat. I’ve got such a splendid idea. We’ll go and eat strawberries at ‘The Pot of Lilies.’”
”‘The Pot of Lilies!’ But you’ve brought some strawberries, haven’t you?”