“I see,” said Elfrida; “so the longer we keep it up——”
“Yes,” said Edred; “so let’s call it Pax and not waste any more time.”
CHAPTER VIII
GUY FAWKES
Three days, because there had been a quarrel. But days pass quickly when the sun shines, and it is holiday-time, and you have a big ruined castle to explore and examine—a castle that is your own, or your brother’s.
“After all,” said Elfrida sensibly, “we might quite likely find the treasure ourselves, without any magic Mouldiwarpiness at all. We’ll look thoroughly. We won’t leave a stone unturned.”
“We shall have to leave a good many stones unturned,” said Edred, looking at the great grey mass of the keep that towered tall and frowning above them.
“Well, you know what I mean,” said Elfrida. “Come on!” and they went.
They climbed the steep, worn stairs that wound round and round in the darkness—stairs littered with dead leaves and mould and dropped feathers, and the dry, deserted nests of owls and jackdaws; stairs that ended suddenly in daylight and a steep last step, and the top of a broad ivy-grown wall from which you could look down, down, down; past the holes in the walls where the big beams used to be, past the old fireplaces still black with the smoke of fires long since burnt out, past the doors and windows of rooms whose floors fell away long ago; down, down, to where ferns and grass and brambles grew green at the very bottom of the tower.
Then there were arched doors that led to colonnades with strong little pillars and narrow windows, wonderful little unexpected chambers and corners—the best place in the whole wide world for serious and energetic hide-and-seek.
“How glorious,” said Elfrida, as they rested, scarlet and panting, after a thrilling game of “I spy,”—“if all these broken bits were mended, so that you couldn’t see where the new bits were stuck on! And if it could all be exactly like it was when it was brand-new.”