“Goodness, it’s time we went back!” she said. “We must hurry. Come on!”
They ran back to the cliff and climbed up the steep, narrow path in the rock, panting and puffing, for they were not yet used to it. Then down the garden they ran to the side-door of Peep-Hole. Miss Dimity was setting a simple supper for them of green lettuce and brown bread and butter, and barley water.
“Good old Dimmy!” cried Mike. “Oh, this is a lovely place, Dimmy. There are dozens of caves down there on the beach.”
“I know,” said Dimmy. “They are called the Spiggy Holes after a famous smuggler called Spiggy, who lived a hundred and fifty years ago. He used to live in that old house higher up the cliff. It is said that he used this house as a spy-place so that he might know when his smuggling boats were coming in.”
“Oooh! How exciting!” said Mike. “Good old Spiggy!”
“He wasn’t good,” said Miss Dimity sternly. “He was very bad.”
“I wish there were smugglers nowadays,” said Peggy. “Then perhaps we could spy on them and discover them. It would be most exciting.”
“Well, there are no smugglers in Spiggy Holes,” said Dimmy. “Have you finished your supper? It is quite time you went up to bed. I suppose you can be trusted to wash and clean your teeth and all that without me seeing that you do?”
“Dimmy dear, do you suppose our teachers at school come and see that we do all that?” said Jack. “It may surprise you to know that we are all of us over five years old.”
“It doesn’t surprise me at all, you cheeky boy,” said Dimmy, smacking him with a spoon, as he ran by her. “Go along with you!”