“Let us go and give her a turn,” cried the Squire.
Tod laughed. “What, all of us?” said he.
“To be sure. All of us. Why not? We’ll start to-morrow.”
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Todhetley, dismay in her mild tones. “Children and all?”
“Children and all; and take Hannah to see to them,” said the Squire. “You don’t count, Joe: you will be off elsewhere.”
“We could never be ready,” said the Mater, looking the image of perplexity. “To-morrow’s Friday. Besides, there would be no time to write to Mary.”
“Write to her!” cried the Squire, turning sharply on his heel as he paced the room in his nankeen morning-coat. “And who do you suppose is going to write to her? Why, it would cause her to make all sorts of preparation, put her to no end of trouble. A pretty conjurer you’d make! We will take her by surprise: that’s what we will do.”
“But if, when we got there, we should find her rooms are let, sir?” said I, the possibility striking me.
“Then we’ll go into others, Johnny. A spell at the seaside will be a change for us all.”