you know that the apples are getting ripe, and
John wants us to help him to pick them? Oh! and the mulberry-tree, too,
is a mass of fruit. What do you say to climbing the apple-trees and
shaking down the apples?"

"Say!" cried Patty. "Delicious!"

Without more words the little girls ran off to the orchard, and nurse's
remarks with regard to the difference between lies and tarradiddles were
forgotten for the time being.

The days went on, but Pen did not forget. There came a morning when, a
letter having arrived from Aunt Sophy saying that Pauline was much
better--in fact, quite herself again--and that she and both the girls
would be home in about a week, the little girl was rendered desperate.

"I has no time to lose," she said to herself. "I am 'termined to go; I am
going some fashion or t'other."

On this occasion she took a bolder step than she had yet attempted. She
resolved to walk alone the entire distance between The Dales and The
Hollies, which was about three miles. Pen was the sort of child who was
never troubled by physical fear. She also knew the Forest very well. She
had but to slip away; none of her sisters would miss her. Or if nurse
wondered where she was, she would conclude that Pen was keeping her elder
sisters company. If the girls wondered, they would think she was with
nurse. Altogether the feat was easy of accomplishment, and the naughty
child determined to go. She started off an hour after breakfast, opened
the wicket-gate, let herself out, and began to walk quickly. These were
the days of early autumn, when the Forest was looking its best; the trees
were beginning to put on their regal dresses of crimson and brown and
gold. Already the rich red leaves were dropping to the ground. The
bracken was withering to a golden brown, and the heather was a deep
purple. Everywhere, too, little bluebells sprang up, looking as if they
were making fairy music. There were squirrels, too, darting from bough to
bough of the beech-trees; and rabbits innumerable, with white-tipped
tails, disappearing into their various holes. A walk in the Forest on
this special day was the sort to fascinate some children, but Pen cared
for none of these things. Her way lay straight before her; her object was
never for a moment forgotten. She meant to reach the sea by some means or
other.

She was a somewhat tired and hot little person when at last she appeared
outside the broad gravel walk that led to The Hollies; and it so