Winfried could not help laughing: something in Ruby’s speech seemed to him so comical.
Then at the little girls’ request he took them out again to examine some of the wonders of the grotto-garden. He fished out some lovely sprays of seaweed for them, and gave them also several of the prettiest shells; best of all, he gathered a sweet nosegay of the forget-me-nots, which Mavis said she would take home to cousin Hortensia. And then, as the sun by this time had travelled a long way downwards, they ran in to bid old Adam good-bye, and to thank him, before setting off homewards.
“How are we going?” asked Ruby. “You’ve sent away the boat.”
“I could call it back again, but I think we had better go a shorter way,” said Winfried. “You’re not frightened of a little bit of the dark, are you? There’s a nice short cut to the rock path through one of the arbours.”
The little girls followed him, feeling very curious, and, perhaps, just a tiny scrap afraid. He led them into one of the grottoes, which, to their surprise, they found a good deal larger than they had expected, for it lengthened out at the back into a sort of cave. This cave was too dark for them to see its size, but Winfried plunged fearlessly into its recesses.
“I must see that the way is clear,” he said, as he left them; “wait where you are for a few minutes.”
Ruby was not very pleased at being treated so unceremoniously.
“I don’t call waiting here a quick way of getting home,” she said, “and I hate the dark. I’ve a good mind to run out and go back the regular way, Mavis.”
“Oh no,” Mavis was beginning, but just then both children started. It seemed to have grown suddenly dark outside, as if a cloud or mist had come over the sky; and as they gazed out, feeling rather bewildered, a clear voice sounded through the grotto.
“Ruby; Mavis,” it said.