But with January came a change to high, cold winds, which dried up the mud, and, having done that much service, departed, to be followed by days of glorious sunshine.  Just about the middle of the month Mrs. Pike had to go away for a week or two to visit her sister in Yorkshire, and with this circumstance, and the lovely weather combined, the children’s spirits rose.  Dan had but a fortnight’s holiday left, it is true, but they meant to enjoy every possible minute of that fortnight, and to begin with they decided on an expedition to Helbarrow Tors, one of their most beloved of picnic places.  Anna had never seen that wonderful spot, and Anna, who did not accompany her mother on her Yorkshire visit, was to be introduced to all its beauties on the very day after her mother’s departure.

As though knowing what was expected of it, the day broke most promisingly.  Of course it was not really light until about eight o’clock—­in fact, they got up and had their breakfast by gaslight, for they really could not stay in bed late with such prospects as they had before them; but already the weather signs were good, and Jabez was most encouraging.

“I’ll back a mist like that there,” he said, “agin anything for turning out a fine day.  You mark my words now, Miss Kitty; and I’ll go right along and get that there donkey and cart for fear anybody else should be put in the mind to ’ave a little egscursion too, and get un furst.”

Fanny was as amiable as Jabez.  When Kitty went out to the kitchen to see about their food for the day she found her with a row of baskets on the table before her, and Dan sitting on the corner of it superintending her doings.

“There, Miss Kitty,” she exclaimed, “that’s the salt I’ve just put in, so don’t anybody say I forgot it, and don’t anybody go unpacking it any’ow or it’ll be upset; and we don’t want no bad luck, do we?”

Kitty looked at the baskets joyfully.

“I’ve put in what I calls a good allowance for six.  Do ’ee think that’ll be enough?” asked Fanny anxiously, “or shall I put in a bit more cake, and a pasty or two extra?  P’r’aps I’d better.”

“Perhaps you had,” said Kitty thoughtfully.  “You see, we have the whole day, and one does get hungry out of doors, and there is never a shop anywhere near—­and if there is, we never have any money to spend in it.”

Even while she was speaking Fanny was stowing the extra pasties and cake into the basket.  “Now, Master Dan, remember that’s the basket you’m to carry,” pointing to a large square one with the cover securely fastened down.  “There’s nothing to eat in it, but it’s the ’eaviest, ’cause it’s got the milk in it, and a bottle of methylated spirits and the little stove in case you can’t get no sticks nor no fire.”

“O Fanny, you are cruel,” sighed Dan.  “I really don’t know,” with a very good imitation of a catch in his voice, “how you can say to me the nasty things you do.”