‘You must not go so near the edge,’ said Mary, who had followed them. ‘Miss Beatrice, give me your hand, and I will let you look down into the sea.’
‘I can take care of myself,’ said Alice; ‘please let me, Mary. Oh, I never saw such beautiful rocks! I wish that grandmamma were here, she would like so much to see them. What is that large white piece further on—it goes so far into the sea?’
‘That is Portland, a sort of island; it is a long way off; only to-day the air is so clear that we can see it easily. But we must go back to your grandmamma,’ added Mary. ‘Are you not hungry?’
‘Oh yes, so hungry, Mary! Let us go back to the nice farm-house.’ And they ran quickly back again.
Alice and Beatrice found the table spread with a white table-cloth, and some nice things on it ready for their dinner. The farmer’s wife had lent some plates, and had put some milk and some cream on the table, and some of her own brown bread; and the children drank the milk, and grandmamma gave them some fruit tart, with a little of the nice cream.
‘It is very good of the farmer’s wife to give us such nice things,’ said Alice; ‘everything tastes so much better than what we have at home, I think. But I was very hungry and thirsty; perhaps that’s why I like everything so much to-day.’
“I think that is one of the reasons, dear Alice,’ was the answer.
‘It is nice to have our dinner under this tree: do you not like it, grandmamma!’
‘Yes, very much.’
‘And so do I, grandmamma,’ said little Beatrice.