Angela cried a little over this letter. "I don't believe father is a bit happy out there," she said. "I do wish he would come home and live here, and mother too. It would be so jolly, and I'm sure they would love it."
A little cloud of sadness rested on them for a while, but for Poppy's sake they put away all sad thoughts, and began to make all kinds of nice plans for the day, and before very long they were all as merry as grigs. Cousin Charlotte was really very pleased when she heard of Anna's invitation.
"I wish you were coming too," cried Esther, "then it would be all quite perfect,—oh, and there's Ephraim. I do think Anna ought to invite him too—don't you, Cousin Charlotte?"
"You had better ask her," said Miss Ashe with a smile. But Anna did not smile when they put the question to her. "Me ask Ephraim!" she cried indignantly. "Me ask him! No, my dears, 'tain't likely as I shall ask him to tea in my kitchen, so he needn't expect it," and she bustled away, sniffing and snorting in a perfect fury of disgust apparently. Why she should show such scorn and contempt of poor Ephraim no one could ever understand; but some very wise, sharp-eyed people had been known to say that she over-acted her contempt for all men, and Ephraim in particular, and that really—well, they even went so far as to say she had so warm a spot in her heart for him, she was always afraid some one would find it out.
But, if it was so, she acted so well that neither Ephraim nor the children ever suspected it was acting.
Having made their suggestion, and not met with the success they had expected, they turned their thoughts next to the spending of their morning. With one consent they agreed it was to be spent on the moor.
"I will wear my watch," said Esther, "and we will see how far we can get; but we will come back to 'the castle' for lunch, won't we?"
All agreed joyfully; and Miss Charlotte's permission having been obtained, Anna packed them two noble baskets of provisions, and gave them a can of milk. Poppy was loth to go away and leave her new treasures, and debated long whether she would not carry her book or her cactus with her—one would be so nice to read on the way, and the sunshine would be so good for the plant; but on the others pointing out to her that she would not be away so very long, she finally agreed to leave both in Anna's care.
"Don't you think," said Penelope, when at last, after many wanderings this way and that, they reached the castle, and she had dropped her basket and thrown herself on the ground beside it—"don't you think we might leave the baskets and can here? It will be ever so much nicer not to have to carry them all the way, and I should think they would be quite safe if we hide them very carefully."
All agreed at once that it was a splendid idea, and quite safe, for they scarcely ever saw any one on the moor but themselves; and the baskets were heavy, and the milk was apt to slop, and it would be much nicer to go on with free hands.