“I’m so glad that tiresome, truthful person let us come up alone,” said Mrs. Pitt, panting. “If she had come, too, I could not have explained that this was Anne’s bedroom. She used to sit by this window and dream about Will, and watch for his coming, too. She——”
“Don’t spoil it all, Mother,” pleaded Barbara. “Perhaps it really was her room!”
“And didn’t I just say as much?” her mother laughed. “But seriously! This room never appealed to me as does the one below. Anne couldn’t have been very comfortable up here. If she was tall, she could hardly have stood up straight because of the slanting roof.”
So laughingly, they went downstairs and toward the patch of bright yellow sun-flowers in the farthest corner of the garden. The young girl followed them. “Shall I point out the different flowers?” she timidly inquired.
They were duly shown the “rosemary for remembrance,” the “pansies for thoughts,” and a great many others of Shakespeare’s loved flowers. The view of the cottage from the group of tall sun-flowers is most charming. There is surely nothing in the world more picturesque than a thatched-roof.
Arrived once again at the Red Horse, they all packed up their belongings, and Mrs. Pitt went over to the station with a boy, who wheeled the luggage. When the suit-cases were duly labeled “Leamington,” and the station-master had received his tip of a shilling, to insure his remembering them, Mrs. Pitt returned to the hotel, where she found five bicycles lined up. At sight of her, the rest came running out. “This is great!” cried John, already astride one of the bicycles, and impatient for the start.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Pitt, much pleased by the enthusiasm. “I thought this would be rather better than driving out to Charlecote and back, and then taking the train to Leamington. I know the roads, and am delighted at riding once more! I had my divided-skirt with me, you see, in case of this very emergency. You girls will manage somehow; your skirts are fairly short.” This was to Barbara and Betty, and then they were off.
The ride of about four miles to Charlecote seemed all too short, for, as Betty expressed it, “the roads are so smooth and level that I can’t stop. My wheel just goes of itself!” They first came in sight of Charlecote Park, where there are still great numbers of deer. As the party passed, the graceful creatures rose from the tall grass, making an extremely pretty picture. They tried in vain to coax them to the fence.
“Deer in Shakespeare’s time must have been tamer, or he couldn’t have stolen one,” observed John knowingly.
“Isn’t the ‘Tumble-down Stile’ near here, Mother?” Barbara questioned.