“Better to be fastened in than to be falling out,” said Hocking, who never spoke unless he was obliged to, and then never a word more than he could help. It did not matter much, for he never said anything but the most foolish things, though he always spoke with an air of the greatest wisdom. Before Priscilla could say any more Dr. Carlyon came out and got up beside the children, for he was going to drive himself, and Hocking was to be left behind. Priscilla was very glad of that. She did not dislike Hocking, but she liked best to drive without him. She found it very hard sometimes to think of things to say to him.
Then at last they started, and drove away up through the street, where nearly every one had a nod or a smile for them, or a touch of the hat or a word to say. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was so clear that when they reached the top of the hill some distance out in the country they could see for miles. In one direction, but very far away, were what looked like pure white hills; these were china-clay mines, their father told them, where the clay was being dug out to make cups and saucers and plates, and all sorts of things.
“I think my mug must have come from there,” said Loveday gravely; “it looks all white like that. Yes, I’m sure it’s the same; it has got ‘A Present for a Good Child’ on it. Don’t you think it did, daddy?”
“It is quite likely,” said Dr. Carlyon; and Loveday was greatly pleased.
“It’s nice to see where things come from,” she said, with a gravely satisfied air.
In another direction they could see the sea; at least their father told them it was the sea, but to the children it looked more like the sky.
“That is the English Channel,” said Dr. Carlyon.
“I think it is heaven—I mean the sky,” said Priscilla. “Father, don’t you think that is where the earth and the sky join? They must meet somewhere, mustn’t they? Do you think if I were to walk on and on and on—oh, ever so far—I should walk right through into the sky, and not know that I’d done it until I found myself with nothing but clouds about me? I should be lost then, shouldn’t I? And I could never get back again, could I? Oh, wouldn’t it be dreadful to turn round and find nothing but clouds all around, and over one’s head, and under one’s feet, and nothing to tell one the way! Just think of it, Loveday; wouldn’t it be frightful?”
“I’ve been thinking,” said Loveday impatiently, “and I don’t want to think any more.”
“Father,” went on Priscilla, “would it be like a sea-fog, only worse?”