He had not to wait long for some explanation of the vision. At breakfast (and it was a wonderful breakfast, with more eggs and bacon, cream and strawberry jam than he had ever known) his father said:
“Now, children, there’s one thing here that you must remember. Jeremy, are you listening?”
“Yes, father.”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full. There’s a farm near the church on the sand. You can’t mistake it.”
“Is the farm on the sand, father?” asked Mary, her eyes wide open.
“No, of course not. How could a farm be on the sand? The farm-house stands back at the end of the path that runs by the church. It’s a grey farm with a high stone wall. You can’t mistake it. Well, none of you children are to go near that farm—on no account whatever, on no account whatever, to go near it.”
“Why not, father?” asked Jeremy. “Is there scarlet fever there?”
“Because I say so is quite enough,” said Mr. Cole. “There’s a family staying there you must have nothing at all to do with. Perhaps you will see them in the distance. You must avoid them and never speak to them.”
“Are they very wicked?” asked Mary, her voice vibrating low with the drama of the situation.
“Never mind what they are. They are not fit companions for you children. It is most unfortunate that they are here so close to us. Had I known it I would not, I think, have come here.”