“Only a little joke, my dear; only a little joke I was having all to myself. I hear so many funny stories, you see. They all have to tell me them: the wind and the rain often chatter to me, as well as the birds and the bees and all the others that you call living creatures. And the sea, ah! the sea has grand stories to tell sometimes.”
“We’re going to the seaside,” said Rafe.
Mrs Caretaker nodded.
“I know,” she said, “I know most things about my friends. I thought you would come to say good-bye before you left. I’ve been waiting for you. And if there is anything you would like me to take care of for you while you’re away, you have only to tell me.”
“Thank you,” said the children. But Alix did not feel quite pleased yet.
“Mrs Caretaker,” she said, “you shouldn’t speak as if this was the only time we’ve come to see you. We’ve been and been ever so often, but we never could find the door. And we’ve always kept saying how kind you’d been; making the birds tell us stories too.”
“It’s all right, my dear,” said the old woman. “Yes, I heard you on the other side of the wall. But I’m very busy sometimes; too busy for visitors. I’m not busy to-night though, and it’s getting chilly out here. Come inside with me for a while, and tell me about where you’re going to.”
“We mustn’t stay long,” said the children. “It’s later than usual for us to be out, but it’s been so hot all day; we got leave to stay a little longer.”
“I will see you home. Don’t be uneasy,” said Mrs Caretaker. She led the way to the wall—almost without her seeming to touch it, the door opened, and they followed her along the little passage into the kitchen.
The fire was pleasantly low; the curtains were drawn back, and through the open window the moonlight, much clearer and fuller than in the garden outside, fell on a little lake of water, where two or three snow-white swans were floating dreamily. Rafe and Alix almost screamed with surprise, but Mrs Caretaker only smiled.