“We’m goin’ to Polderry; we’m goin’ to Polderry.”
Miss Margaret’s whole attention was taken up with the astonished pony, but, far away in the distance, standing on the quay, Miss Dorothea descried the figure of Uncle Harry and Uncle Harry was waving and shouting too.
Polderry was only five miles off along the cliff, but in driving you cover nearly twice that distance in order to have a better road. Miss Margaret had been directed to go past the station, up by the golf-links, through St Peter’s and along the main road to Esselton, then they were to turn off to the right down the beautiful Brenton Valley and so to Polderry.
In the gingle Tommy sat up near the horse on the right-hand side with Miss Margaret next to him. Opposite Tommy was Miss Dorothea, so that Ruthie was near the door facing Miss Margaret. The reins, therefore, passed in front of Tommy, and suddenly he clutched them very tight while they were driving through the town, with the result that Jimmy, the pony, swerved to the left and almost ran into the corner of the bridge. Miss Margaret told him that he should help to drive when they were up on the wide country road, and very reluctantly Tommy let go. It was both surprising and disappointing when immediately afterwards Tommy again seized the reins, this time so tightly that it was with difficulty that his fingers were unclasped.
“You must be quite obedient,” Miss Margaret reminded him.
So little, however, did Tommy realize what was meant by obedience that scarcely had she finished speaking than he again seized the reins with both hands, while a naughty look of defiance appeared on his face.
After this there was distinct depression in the gingle until Ruthie’s shrill, bright voice pierced the gloom.
“There do be a nest on that wall under the ivy,” she said, very confidentially. “’Tis a brave, big secret, an’ no-one knows of it at all except only me an’ Tommy, an’ my daddy an’ mammy, an’ his daddy an’ mammy, ’n Aunt Keziah Kate an’ Granfäather Tregennis.”
“Just a family secret,” interposed Miss Margaret. “And what sort of a nest is it?”
“I don’t know what sort o’ nest it be. It do be a very nice little tight nest, an’ ’tis quite empty this little nest, but I don’t know what kind of nest ’e do be; just little an’ tight.”