"I shall do my best to get to know her," said Pamela.
Half an hour later—after a slight delay caused by Caroline being unable to make up her mind whether she should take her mackintosh as well as her goloshes and umbrella, and finally deciding to take it in spite of Isobel's unconcealed mirth—the four girls started off on their walk to Inchmoor. Beryl and Caroline were introduced to the village by the other two girls, before they all turned up the lane that led through the fields, and over the hill, to the market town.
This was the lane that led past the picturesque old windmill that Millicent Jackson had told Pamela about in the paper-shop; and knowing this, Pamela had brought a notebook and pencil with her in case she felt tempted to stop and make a sketch of it while the others went on to Inchmoor. There was nothing she wanted to get particularly at the shops in the little town, and a fine day in January was a thing to seize for sketching—there were so few fine days; and one could always do shopping in the rain.
The lane that ran between the fields was very pretty even in January, and Pamela found herself wishing that her brother Michael was with her; he always appreciated the same scenery as she did, and her thoughts were with him and those at home while she joined in, more or less at random, the animated conversation that was going on around her. She dared not let herself think too much about her home, or such a wave of homesickness would have engulfed her that she would have wanted to go straight off to the station and take a through ticket to Oldminster at once. She felt she could not possibly endure six whole months without a sight of her mother or any of them.
"But I've got to see this thing through now," she told herself. "I mustn't be silly. And six months will pass quickly if I've got plenty to do."
Pamela had thought over her duties as hostess carefully, and was convinced that it was necessary to have some kind of work for each of them to do, day by day, if they were not to become bored or irritable with each other, and if their six months' stay in Barrowfield was to be a success. Of course, it was too early to be bored with anything yet—everything was so fresh; but presently, when they had got used to each other and Barrowfield, she feared things might not run so easily—unless there was plenty of interesting work to be done. Cut off from their home interests, they were left with many blank spaces in their lives which needed filling—and Pamela meant to see that these spaces were filled; she was a great believer in keeping busy.
Enthusiasm is generally catching. And Pamela's enthusiasm had been communicated to the other three—which explains Isobel's desire to interview the principal of the Dancing Academy; and Caroline's determination to inquire about dress-making lessons in Inchmoor, though unfortunately she had not been able to find anything about the matter in the local paper. Beryl was in quest of some musical studies which she meant to buy out of her three pounds. But enthusiasm can keep at white heat with but few people; and those who are naturally enthusiastic must keep the others going—as Pamela was to find out.
The four girls soon began to ascend a steep incline in the lane, with tall hedges bordering each side now, and separating them from the fields. Whenever they came to a gate set in a gap between the hedges, and leading into one or other of the fields, they would stop for a moment and look over the bars of the gate at the fine view of hills and woods that unfolded itself before them. They were certainly in the midst of charming country; even Isobel admitted this involuntarily, and she rarely if ever expressed any appreciation of scenery.
At length, as they turned a bend in the lane, the old windmill came in sight.
"What a fine picture it makes!" thought Pamela; then she exclaimed aloud, "Oh, and there's a pond beside it—Millicent Jackson never mentioned the pond. It's just exactly what it wants to complete the picture."