Clara Hopgood

'The message then was authentic,' she said to herself. 'I thought I

could not have misunderstood it.'

On Sunday morning Clara wished to stay at home. She pleaded that she

preferred rest, but Mrs Caffyn vowed there should be no Norbury Park

if Clara did not go, and the kind creature managed to persuade a pig-

dealer to drive them over to Letherhead for a small sum,

notwithstanding it was Sunday. The whole party then set out; the

baby was drawn in a borrowed carriage which also took the provisions,

and they were fairly out of the town before the Letherhead bells had

ceased ringing for church. It was one of the sweetest of Sundays,

sunny, but masses of white clouds now and then broke the heat. The

park was reached early in the forenoon, and it was agreed that dinner

should be served under one of the huge beech trees at the lower end,

as the hill was a little too steep for the baby-carriage in the hot

sun.

'This is very beautiful,' said Marshall, when dinner was over, 'but

it is not what we came to see. We ought to move upwards to the

Druid's grove.'

'Yes, you be off, the whole lot of you,' said Mrs Caffyn. 'I know

every tree there, and I ain't going there this afternoon. Somebody

must stay here to look after the baby; you can't wheel her, you'll

have to carry her, and you won't enjoy yourselves much more for

moiling along with her up that hill.'

'I will stay with you,' said Clara.

Everybody protested, but Clara was firm. She was tired, and the sun

had given her a headache. Madge pleaded that it was she who ought to

remain behind, but at last gave way for her sister looked really

fatigued.

'There's a dear child,' said Clara, when Madge consented to go. 'I

shall lie on the grass and perhaps go to sleep.'

'It is a pity,' said Baruch to Madge as they went away, 'that we are

separated; we must come again.'

'Yes, I am sorry, but perhaps it is better she should be where she

is; she is not particularly strong, and is obliged to be very

careful.' In due time they all came to the famous yews, and sat down on one of

the seats overlooking that wonderful gate in the chalk downs through

which the Mole passes northwards.

'We must go,' said Marshall, 'a little bit further and see the oak.'

'Not another step,' said his wife. 'You can go it you like.'