“Bessie, we are going to Aunt Emma’s,” said Milly, running up to them.  “Where are you and Charlie going to?”

“Nawhere,” said Bessie, who, as usual, had her pinafore in her mouth, and never said more than one word at a time if she could help it.

“Nowhere! what do you do all the morning, Bessie?”

“I doan’t know,” said Bessie, gravely looking up at her; “sometimes I mind the baby.”

“Do you mind the baby, too?  Dear, dear!  And what does Charlie do?”

“Nawthing,” said Bessie again.  “He only makes himself dirty.”

“Don’t you go to school ever?”

“No, but mother’s going to send us,” said Bessie, whose big eyes grew round and frightened at the idea, as if it was a dreadful prospect.  “Are you going to be away for all day?”

“Yes; we shan’t be back till quite evening, mother says.  Here she is.  Good-bye, Bessie; good-bye, Charlie.  Will you come and play with us to-morrow morning?”

Bessie nodded, but Charlie ran off without answering; for he saw Olly coming, and was afraid he might want to kiss him.  On the other side of the gate they had to begin to climb up a steep bit of soft green grass; and very hard work it was.  After quite a little way the children began to puff and pant like two little steam engines.

“It is a little bit like going upstairs, don’t you think, Olly?” said Milly, sitting down by her mother on a flat bit of gray stone.

“No, it isn’t a bit like going upstairs,” said Olly, shaking his head; for Olly always liked contradicting Milly if he could.  “It’s like—­it’s like—­walking up a house!”

Suddenly they heard far above them a shout of “Hullo!” Both the children started up and looked about them.  It was like father’s voice, but they couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Where are you, father?”

“Hullo!” again.  And this time it sounded much nearer to them.  Where could it be?  The children began to run about and look behind the bushes and the rocks, till all of a sudden, just as Milly got near a big rock, out jumped Mr. Norton from behind it with a great shout, and began to run after her.  Away ran Milly and Olly as fast as their small feet could carry them, up and down, up and down, till at last there came a steep place—­one of Milly’s feet tripped up, down she went, rolling over and over—­down came Olly on the top of her, and the two of them rolled away together till they stopped at the bottom of the steep place, all mixed up in a heap of legs and arms and hats and pinafores.

“Here’s a boy and girl tied up in a knot,” said Mr. Norton, scrambling down after them and lifting them up.  “There’s no harm done, is there?”

“I’ve got a bump on my arm,” said Milly, turning up her sleeve.

“And I’ve got a scratch on my nose,” said Olly, rubbing it.

“That’s not much for a nice tumble like that,” said Mr. Norton, “you wouldn’t mind another, would you, Milly?”