"But we shall have to look after them properly, and treat them just as we would any other visitors," Brenda said anxiously; "we can't sort of leave them to themselves, you know."
"Of course," said Herbert rather testily; "what do you take me for? I hope I shan't behave like a cad in my own house! But that is just the nuisance of it: they'll be visitors without being visitors, and they'll be here such an awful time. Thank goodness, there will be term time to look forward to!"
"If only Aunt Dorothy—" began Brenda.
"Oh, shut up," said Herbert roughly. Then added more gently, "I think the carriage has just turned in at the park gate. Listen."
All through the voyage Eustace and Nesta had been picturing this very day—this very hour. The parting with Bob and the farewell to home necessarily dropped into the background of their thoughts; the foreground was full of expectations. Now that they could realize they were on their way to the fulfilment of what had originally been the dream of their lives, all the old feeling of longing possessed them. At last they would see England! At last they would know what real "home" was like—their mother's old home, to which she had given them such a sense of belonging by all the tales they knew so well!
That England was not what they expected was natural enough. Mrs. Orban had never pretended to describe England, but simply her own particular corner of it on the borders of Wales. Leaving the ship was all bustle and rush, but during the long train journey there was plenty of time to look about, and English scenery struck all three children as most peculiar.
"Why, it's just like a map!" exclaimed Peter, as he knelt up at a window. "I'm certain if I was up in a balloon it would look like a map with all those funny little hedges."
"I think it would look like a patchwork quilt," said Nesta. "Father, why do people mark their land out into such funny little bits?"
So spoke the children, used to wide tracts of land without boundaries, hundreds of acres without fence or railing—such country as England boasts of in miniature only on its wildest moors.
The twins were speechless and almost suffocated with excitement when the train at last ran into a little country station, and Mr. Orban said briskly,—