“Not a bit,” said Milly, merrily skipping along beside him.  “Hide again, father.”

“Another day, not now, for we want to get to Aunt Emma’s.  But tomorrow, if you like, we’ll come up here and have a capital game.  Only we must choose a nice dry place where there are no bogs.”

“What are bogs?” asked Olly.

“Wet places, where your feet go sinking deeper and deeper into the mud, and you can’t find any stiff firm bit to stand on.  Sometimes people sink down and down into a bog till the mud comes right over their head and face and chokes them; but we haven’t got any bogs as bad as that here.  Now, children, step along in front.  Very soon we shall get to the top of the mountain, and then we shall see wonderful things on the other side.”

So Milly and Olly ran on, pushing their way through the great tall fern, or scampering over the short green grass where the little mountain sheep were nibbling, and where a beautiful creeping moss grew all over the ground, which, mother told Milly, was called “Stags’ horn moss,” because its little green branches were so like stags’ horns.

“Now look, children,” shouted their father to them from behind.  “Here we are at the top.”

And then, all of a sudden, instead of only the green mountain and the sheep, they could see far away on the other side of the mountain.  There, all round them, were numbers of other mountains; and below, at their feet, were houses and trees and fields, while straight in front lay a great big blue lake stretching away ever so far, till it seemed to be lost in the sky.

“Look, look, mother!” cried Milly, clapping her hands, “there’s Windermere lake, the lake we saw when we were coming from the station.  Look at that steamer, with all the people on board!  What funny little black people.  And oh, mother, look at that little boat over there!  How can people go out in such a weeny boat as that?”

“It isn’t such a weeny boat, Milly.  It only looks so small because it’s such a long way off.  When father and I take you and Olly on the lake, we shall go in a boat just like that.  And now, instead of looking so far away, look just down here below you, and tell me what you see.”

“Some chimneys, and some trees, and some smoke, ever so far down,” shouted the children.  “Is it a house, mother?”

“That’s Aunt Emma’s house, the old house where I used to come and stay when I was a little girl, and when your dear great-grandfather and great-grandmother were alive.  I used to think it the nicest place in the world.”

“Were you a very little girl, mother, and were you ever naughty?” asked Milly, slipping her little hand into her mother’s and beginning to feel rather tired with her long walk.

“I’m afraid I was very often naughty, Milly.  I used to get into great rages and scream, till everybody was quite tired out.  But Aunt Emma was very good to me, and took a great deal of pains to cure me of going into rages.  Besides, it always did naughty children good to live in the same house with great-grandmamma, and so after a while I got better.  Take care how you go, children, it’s very steep just here, and you might soon tumble over on your noses.  Olly, take care! take care! where are you going?”