"You never gave me the chance--just said off-hand you wouldn't go
anywhere. Yes, the engine's running like a daisy, and the sidecar's on,
and Egbert's fussing to be off. If you really change your mind and want
to go----"

But by this time Ingred was round the corner of the house; so, shaking a
philosophic head at the ways of girls in general, her brother gathered a
gooseberry or two en route, and followed her in the direction of the
stable-yard.

The Saxons were spending their summer holidays at a farm near the
seaside, and for the first time in four long years the whole family was
reunited. Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane had only just been
demobilized, and had hardly yet settled down to civilian life. They had
joined the rest of the party at Lynstones before returning to their
native town of Grovebury. The six weeks by the sea seemed a kind of
oasis between the anxious period of the war that was past and gone, and
the new epoch that stretched ahead in the future. To Ingred they were
halcyon days. To have her father and brothers safely back, and for the
family to be together in the midst of such beautiful scenery, was
sufficient for utter enjoyment. She did not wish her mind to venture
outside the charmed circle of the holidays. Beyond, when she thought
about it all, lay a nebulous prospect, in the center of which school
loomed large.

On this particular hot August afternoon, Ingred welcomed an excursion in
the sidecar. She had not felt inclined to walk down the white path
under the blazing sun to the glaring beach, but it was another matter to
spin along the high road till, as the fairy tales put it, her hair
whistled in the wind. Egbert was anxious to set off, so Hereward took
his place on the luggage-carrier, and, after some back-firing, the three
started forth. It was a glorious run over moorland country, with
glimpses of the sea on the one hand, and craggy tors on the other, and
round them billowy masses of heather, broken here and there by runnels
of peat-stained water. If Egbert exceeded the speed-limit, he certainly
had the excuse of a clear road before him; there were no hedges to hide
advancing cars, neither was there any possibility of whisking round a
corner to find a hay-cart blocking the way. In the course of an hour
they had covered a considerable number of miles, and found themselves
whirling down the tremendous hill that led to the seaside town of
Chatcombe.

Arrived in the main street they lef