Loveday did not answer. She felt very much the same, but she was not going to say so.
They did not sit down this time to enjoy the view, but munched their crusts as they walked. There was neither a lovely sunrise, nor a dense sea-fog—it was just an ordinary dull, grey morning; and Loveday no longer felt that for the future she should always rise with the sun, and try to make every one else do the same. Every now and then her thoughts would turn to her snug, comfortable little bed, though she tried hard to fix them on something else, for she felt that if she thought of it too much she should turn and run back to it, and creep in and lay her weary body out at full length between the cosy blankets, and her sleepy head on the pillow, and sleep, and sleep, and sleep—all the day through, if she could.
Everything was quiet as usual when they reached the gate. By this time they had found out how to walk over the pebbled path without making much noise.
“We will try to make that place look very nice to-day,” said Loveday; “I’ve brought a knife and a pair of scissors with me, and we’ll cut off all the great big straggly things, and the dead things, and ‘heave ’em to cliff’ as we did the straw.”
“That’s one of mother’s best knives,” said Aaron anxiously; “you’d best not use that. You should have brought the ’taty knife, the little dumpy one she uses for peeling ’taties.”
“Well, I can’t go back now to change it,” said Loveday decidedly. “I must use this one. One knife isn’t very much, and they are meant to cut things with; we shan’t hurt it—besides, Bessie has got more like it.”
“Oh, well, do as you please,” said Aaron crossly; “only there’ll be a fine row if it’s spoilt. Knives”—with that superior, knowing air of his which always nettled Loveday—“costs a brave bit of money.”
“Of course I know that,” she snapped irritably. “I didn’t think they grew. Well, I’ll use the scissors, and you can use your hands; unless you brought something yourself to cut with.”
But by this time they had reached the walled-in garden, and in their excitement to see if anything had happened they forgot their crossness. Along the path they ran till they reached the bed, then stood still and looked at each other with wide eyes. The bed was covered again with straw—fresh, new straw—and over it and across it in all directions was fine cord, stretched to pegs which had been stuck firmly in the ground.
The two felt quite frightened! Whoever had done it had spared no trouble in making all secure this time, but had carried out their work deliberately and beautifully. The children felt perfectly helpless.