"Well," said Puck at length, "she may be obedient, but she's nasty too. You're obedient and nice, Essie. I like you. But if you say we've got to ask Prissy, we will; only I hope Uncle Bob will laugh the priggishness out of her if she comes."
Great excitement reigned in the little house during the next days, for there seemed no reason to postpone the arrangement if it were really to be carried out. Esther and Genefer were busy putting away household things, and packing up personal belongings. The boys flitted hither and thither, helping and hindering, and made daily excursions to the Crag to get news of Mr. Trelawny, and tell him how they were getting on.
Lessons were not to be recommenced till the party got up to their new quarters, and the cart came daily to fetch away boxes that were ready for removing.
Milly and Bertie were rather sorrowful at the thought of losing their playmates, but Puck brought good news from the Crag.
"Uncle Bob says you may come up every Saturday afternoon and play with us. He doesn't think we shall go sailing in the Swan very often now, because the sea gets rough in the winter; but there are no end of jolly things to do up there, and Uncle Bob says we may have you up whenever you can come on Saturdays. Esther can ask Prissy too, if she wants her, but you are our friends. Prissy never cares to play with us."
This was delightful news, for the Crag had never, been anything but a mysterious region of wonders to the rectory children. Mr. Trelawny had sometimes asked the parents to send them; but Mrs. Polperran did not entirely approve of Mr. Trelawny, and she was half afraid lest some harm should come to her brood through his love of practical joking. It was very exciting to think of visiting there now, and seeing all the strange things that were said to exist in that house.
"Is he really a magician or a wizard?" asked Milly with bated breath.
"I don't believe he is," answered Pickle. "I believe he's just a nice, jolly old gentleman; only he's very clever, and people don't understand, and call him names. I don't believe there are any magicians left now. I believe he's just the same as other people."
"But the pickled skeletons in the tanks," urged Milly.
"I don't believe there are any really," answered Puck, with a note of regret in his voice; "I don't think he pickles anything except specimens that go into bottles. We shall find out all about it when we go to live there. But I don't believe he's a bit of a magician, and Essie doesn't think so either. She isn't a bit afraid of him now."