r early in the season for visitors, you see. But I didn't mind.
I just stood still, with my hands behind me, and looked well round at
the view and everything.

Behind the church the ground rises, and up there, there was a house,
standing by itself and looking rather new. I remembered what Mrs.
Parsley had said.

'That must be the getting-well Home for children,' I thought. 'I'd like
to see through it. Perhaps we might have some of the children to tea one
day, when we're at the farm. The wellest ones; it would be rather fun.'

I'd a good deal to tell the girls about when we got home, hadn't I?

But, after all, we didn't tell them very much that night. For both mums
and I were pretty tired, though everything had been so nice. The train
going home was a much slower one. When we got near London, it seemed to
stop at every station. My goodness! it _was_ tiresome. And we were
hungry too, for we'd only had luncheon at Mossmoor; we had to leave too
soon for tea, and, besides, mother didn't want to give Mrs. Parsley so
much trouble.

Father was going to be late that night. He wasn't coming in to dinner at
all. I didn't much mind, for it was all the nicer for me. Mums and I had
a sort of picnic dinner--with tea, you know, like what people often have
when they arrive very late after a journey. And we talked over about the
rooms and everything quietly. The girls were all in bed. We just went
in to see them. Hebe was the widest awake; and she was so pleased to
hear that perhaps there'd be room for her too at Mossmoor if she was a
good girl, and got nearly quite well at Ventnor.

And the next morning we told all of them everything about it. I had to
begin at the beginning, and tell about the railway, and how pretty the
fields looked, and what a lovely station there was at Fewforest, and the
drive in the pony phaeton, and how red the fat boy's ears were; and then
about the house and Mrs. Parsley, and the rooms, and everything.

I hadn't time to tell about my walk through the village till
luncheon--mum's luncheon, I mean, which is our dinner. And then I began
about the nice old church; they were very pleased, Anne most of all. But
just as I was telling about the lady I'd seen, and how I couldn't
remember how I seemed to know her face, all of a sudden it plumped into
my mind. I threw down my knife and fork on my plate. I'm afraid they
made a clatter, for mums jumped. It was partly perhaps that I called out
so.

'I _know_ who it