“And it is nice,” added Sylvia, “to have the Vivian attic.”
“Oh, dear!” said Hester; “I wish all those girls would keep out of sight, for then I’d dash back to the house and bring out the pieces of heather and plant them right away. They ought not to be long out of the ground.”
“You had best go at once,” said Betty, giving Hester a somewhat vigorous push, which very nearly upset the little girl’s balance. “Go boldly back to the house; don’t be afraid of any one; don’t speak to any one unless it happens to be Mrs. Haddo. Be sure you are polite to her, for she is a lady. Go up to the Vivian attic and bring down the clumps of heather, and the little spade we brought with us in the very bottom of the fifth trunk.”
“Oh, and there’s the watering-can; don’t forget that!” cried Sylvia.
“Yes, bring the watering-can, too. You had best find a pump, or a well, or something, so that you can fill it up to the brim. Bring them all along; and then just whistle ‘Robin Adair’ at the foot of this tree, and we two will come swarming down. Now, off with you; there’s no time to lose!”
Hester descended without a word. She was certainly born without a scrap of fear of any kind, and adventure appealed to her plucky little spirit. Betty settled herself back comfortably against one of the forked branches of the tree where she had made her nest.
“If we are careful, Sylvia, we can come up here to hide as often as we like. I rather fancy from the shape of those other girls that they’re not specially good at climbing trees.”
“What do you mean by their shape?” asked Sylvia.
“Oh, they’re so squeezed in and pushed out; I don’t know how to explain it. Now, we have the use of all our limbs; and I say, you silly little Sylvia, won’t we use them just!”
“I always love you, Betty, when you call me ‘silly little Sylvia,’ for I know you are in a good humor and not inclined to howl. But, before Hetty comes back, I want to say something.”