“Have you had any answers to your advertisement?”
Tish, who had been about to put a slice of lemon in her tea, put it in her mouth instead and stared at us both.
“What advertisement?”
“We know all about it, Tish,” I said. “And if you think it proper for a woman of your age to go adventuring with only a donkey for company——”
“I’ve had worse!” Tish snapped. “And I’m not feeble yet, as far as my age goes. If I want to take a walking tour it’s my affair, isn’t it?”
“You can’t walk with your bad knee,” I objected. Tish sniffed.
“You’re envious, that’s what,” she sneered. “While you are sitting at home, overeating and oversleeping and getting fat in mind and body, I shall be on the broad highway, walking between hedgerows of flowering—flowering—well, between hedgerows. While you sleep in stuffy, upholstered rooms I shall lie in woodland glades in my sleeping-bag and see overhead the constellation of—of what’s its name. I shall talk to the birds and the birds will talk to me.”
Sleeping-bag! That was what Aggie had meant that Miss Swift was making.
“What are you going to do when it rains?”
“It doesn’t rain much in May. Anyhow, a friendly farmhouse and a glass of milk—even a barn——”