postilion in his scarlet coat and brass buttons, sounded
his bugle loudly. As they rolled by farmhouses, heads would appear
curiously at the windows, while children ran out to watch that
important event,--the passing of the daily coach. One rosy-cheeked
girl in a blue pinafore tossed a bunch of yellow cowslips up into Mrs.
Pitt's lap, calling out, "Cowslips, lady; thank ye!" When a sixpence
was thrown down to her, she smiled, courtesied primly, and then
disappeared into the nearest cottage,--one of plaster and thatch,
overgrown with roses.

However, the crowning joy of the day, even in the opinion of John,
who was difficult to please, was the first glimpse of quaint little
Clovelly itself. The coach set them down in the middle of a field; a
few seafaring men stood about, there was a booth or two where old
women sold fruit, a steep path was before them, but no town was
anywhere in sight.

"Don't let's go down there," John grumbled. "What's the use? I'd much
rather stay up on that front seat with the driver."

Mrs. Pitt smiled knowingly, and still led the way on down the walk.
The hedges on either side were so high and thick that they could not
see beyond them, and the children were really speechless when the path
suddenly came to an end, and the whole queer little street of Clovelly
lay before them. For a second no word was spoken, then all burst out
at once.

"Well, what do you think of that?" chuckled John. "Just look at the
donkeys!"

"And the pink and white doll's houses!" exclaimed Barbara.

"And the funny cobble-stone street!" cried Philip.

[Illustration: ONE OF PLASTER AND THATCH, OVERGROWN WITH ROSES.--_Page
239._]

"And the blue, blue water at its feet!" rhymed Betty, all
unconsciously. "I just know the Mediterranean isn't any bluer!"

"Isn't it the dearest, oddest little place!" put in Mrs. Pitt, summing
up all the children's remarks in one. "I do think it's----." But here
Betty interrupted her.

"Look at that little girl!" she fairly screamed. "Don't let her run
down that steep street like that! She mustn't do it!"

Mrs. Pitt, after one look at the child, merely laughed and replied,
"Don't worry, Betty; she's used to it. She's probably done it all her
life, and she'll never fall. Now, I turn you all loose for two hours.
Explore the place to your heart's content, for it will be long before
you see such another. Come to the New Inn (that's it, where the sign
is!) at one-thirty for luncheon."