‘We do believe you,’ said Caroline earnestly. ‘Who said we didn’t?’
And Charles said, ‘Of course we do—what nonsense! We’ll bring you a paper and pencil and an envelope, and you can write to your father. And we will conceal you.’
‘Right O!’ said Rupert. ‘Hush!’
They hushed, and, Rupert pointing through the blue gap between the oak and the honeysuckle, their eyes followed the pointing of his finger. A figure was coming up the drive—a figure in blue.
‘Go and see what it is,’ whispered Rupert, ‘but don’t let on.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Charlotte, jumping up.
‘But what’ll you say if they ask you what you’ve come in for?’ Charles asked.
‘I shall say I’ve come in to fetch you a pocket-handkerchief,’ said Charlotte witheringly, ‘because you wanted one so badly. You always do.’
She went.