Her plan answered well. All night she was constantly turning and waking, and she was glad enough when daylight came at last. She did not know what the time was, but she got up, and, tiptoeing out, called Aaron. It was not very easy to wake him; he had not troubled to sleep in his clothes, or to do anything else to make him wake early. Loveday, afraid to shout at him, or to make any noise at all, took the water-bottle, thinking that a drop or two of water on his face might answer better than anything, but the water, unfortunately, did not drop—it poured all down his face and neck in a cold stream, and Aaron started up with a howl which filled Loveday with dismay and vexation.
“Oh, you silly, you!” she cried crossly; “do be quiet, and don’t be so stupid. Don’t you remember what we are going to do?”
“Yes,” said Aaron, cross enough himself now, “but I want to go to sleep.” He did not feel at all in the mood for playing at being a pisky. Loveday, though, was determined, and after a moment the sleepiness and crossness passed, and he began to feel the excitement of their plan.
“Make haste and dress,” said Loveday firmly. “I shan’t be long.”
And in a remarkably short space of time they had dressed and crept out of her window, and were scrambling hurriedly up the steep cliff-path.
“Oh, how lovely!”
Young as she was, Loveday had to keep on stopping to admire the beauty of the scene; the sea, and sky, and land, all radiant in the glorious glow of sunrise, the sparkling heavy sea, the towering cliffs, and over all the singing of happy birds. More than once they had to pause on their way and gaze about them.
“I wish we could always get up as early as this,” sighed Loveday. “I think I shall, and I’ll try and make Priscilla and Geoffrey get up too; the other parts of the day are never so pretty. I wish Prissy could see it now.”
“I’ve seen it like this scores of times,” said Aaron, in a tone that implied: “This is nothing to me; I am used to it.”
“And yet you wanted to stay on in bed and sleep,” flashed Loveday scornfully.