He thrust his head under her elbow. She put her arm round his neck and he sat perfectly still.
"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered.
"I like to look at it," said Tony.
"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang Meg.
"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a mere snatch of song.
"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along, chicks, we'll go and see everything. This is home, you know, where dear Mummy wanted you to be."
It was their first day at Wren's End, and the weather was kind. They were all four in the drive, looking back at the comfortable stone-fronted Georgian house. The sun was shining, a cheerful April sun that had little warmth in it but much tender light; and this showed how all around the hedges were getting green; that buds were bursting from brown twigs, as if the kind spring had covered the bare trees with a thin green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were thrusting up in the garden beds.
Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied by a joyfully galumphing William, who was in such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent to a solemn deep-chested bark.
When they came to the squat grey lodge, there was Mrs. Earley standing in her doorway to wel