“There, Julia,” cried Cynthia, when they had been down a few days, “I think this is delicious, though we might just as well have stayed at Lawford. I don’t know, though; I like the seaside, and we shall be as free here as at home in the dear old woods.”
Julia shuddered.
“Oh, you foolish girl! There, don’t think of that again. Let’s enjoy ourselves while we can. The Perry-Mortons will be here soon.”
“Are they coming down?” said Julia, with a look of dismay.
“Yes. Harry’s aversion wrote to papa this morning, saying that they should be at Hastings on Saturday, so we’ve three whole days clear. What did Sage say in her letter?”
“Very little,” replied Julia. “She said that Cyril had had some little trouble though at his office.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Cynthia, “but I hope he won’t lose that.”
“Hadn’t we better turn back, Cynthia?” said her sister, with an uneasy glance round. “There are no people here.”
“That’s why I came,” said Cynthia, merrily. “I like getting away to where we can be free. Come along; I’ll help you down.”
She held out her hand, but Julia did not take it, and after threading their way amongst the huge rocks and débris fallen from the cliffs at the eastern end of the town, they started onward, keeping close to the water where they could, but oftener upon the shingle beneath the towering cliffs, along whose giddy edges some children were playing, as if safe as the gulls that softly winged their way above their heads.