"Cone Head to-day," replied Elizabeth.
There was something in her voice that attracted Joan's attention, a decision, a kind of defiance that seemed out of place. It was as if she had said: "I will go to Cone Head, I want to get out of this beastly place, to get up above it and forget it." Joan eyed her curiously. To Milly she was just the governess who gave you sums and always, except when in such a mood as to-day, saw that you did them; but to Joan she was a human being. To Milly she was "Miss Rodney," to Joan, privately at all events, "Elizabeth." They walked on in silence.
Milly began to lag. "I'm tired to-day, let's go into the arcade."
"Why?" demanded Joan.
"Because I like the shops."
"We don't," said Joan. Milly lagged more obviously.
"Come, Milly, walk properly, please," said Elizabeth.
They had passed the High Street by now and were trudging up the long white road to Cone Head. Over the point the wind raged furiously, it snatched at their skirts and undid Milly's curls.
"Oh! oh!" she gasped.
Elizabeth laughed, but her laughter was caught up and blown away before it could reach the children; Joan only knew that she was laughing by her open mouth.