'Well, let us hope they will let her come,' said Miss Clotilda. 'I will send my letter separately; but I wanted to ask you what you thought of telling the little girl herself about it. Do you think it best to say nothing to her till we hear from her uncle, and to leave it to him to tell her?'

Kathie considered.

'No, aunty,' she said. 'I think we needn't do that. Philippa is such a _very_ sensible little girl, I'm sure her uncle would talk to her about it immediately. So may I write and tell her? Oh dear, how lovely!'

'Yes, certainly. You haven't very much time. The letters must go in half an hour, but as you are hoping now to see her soon, you won't need to say so very much.'

Kathie's pen flew along the paper. She could have filled pages with the antic.i.p.ated delights of Philippa's visit, and it was just as well her time was limited. One argument she brought to bear with great force in favour of the visit. 'Be sure to tell your uncle,' she wrote, 'that your mamma gave you into my charge at school, and that I promised her to try to make you happy. So I am sure, if there was time to ask her, that _she_ would like you to come.'

'I think that's very clever of me,' she said to herself, as she folded up the letter, 'and I'm sure it's quite true. But how shall I get through the next two or three days till we can hear if she is coming? I must get Neville to take me tremendously long walks.'

The next day, fortunately, was very fine.

'Aunty,' said Kathleen at breakfast, 'I do feel in such a fidget about Philippa coming that I'm afraid I shall get quite unbearable. Don't you think the best thing would be for Neville and me to go a very long walk to calm me down?'

'Do very long walks generally have that desirable effect?' asked Miss Clotilda. 'I have no objection, provided you don't lose your way.'

'Oh! we won't lose our way,' said Neville. 'I have a pocket compa.s.s.

Besides, as you said yourself, aunty, it is a very easy country to find one's way in. There's always a hill one can climb, and once you see the sea, you can easily make out where you are.'

'And any of the cottagers about can direct you to Ty-gwyn,' said Miss Clotilda. 'Well, then, if you ask Martha to make you some sandwiches, and to give you some rock cakes for "pudding," you might take your dinners with you, and not come back till the afternoon. And,' she added, glancing out of the window as she spoke, 'I think you would do well to make hay while the sun shines, at present--that is to say, to go a long walk while it is fine, for I don't think this weather is going to last above a day or two.'

'Oh!' Kathie exclaimed, 'I do hope it won't rain all the time Philippa is here.'

'Kathie,' said Neville, 'you are too silly. Aunty only meant that we might have _some_ rain. She never said it would rain for weeks.'

'That it seldom, indeed never, does here,' said Miss Clotilda. 'But, you know, in a very hilly district you must expect uncertain weather. I think there is no fear for to-day, however.'

And an hour or two later the children set off.

'Which way shall we go?' said Kathleen. 'To the sea?'

Neville looked round.

'Suppose we go over there, towards that hill,' he said. 'There's a sort of creek between two little hills there--or more perhaps as if it was cut in the middle of one--that must be very pretty. Martha told me about it. I forget the name she called it in Welsh. She said the smugglers used to run their boats in there, for there are caves they could hide things in.'

'Oh, what fun!' said Kathie. 'Do let us go! Are there no smugglers now, Neville? What a pity!' she went on, as her brother shook his head. 'It would be so romantic to find a smugglers' cave.'

'I don't think it would be romantic at all--at least, it wouldn't be at all pleasant,' said sensible Neville. 'In the days when there were smugglers, if they had found us poking about their caves they wouldn't have been very amiable to us.'

'What would they have done to us?' asked Kathleen.

'Pitched us into the sea, or--or gagged us, and tied our hands behind us, and left us among the rocks on the chance of any one finding us,'

said Neville grimly.

Kathleen shuddered. They were soon at the entrance to the little creek which Martha had described, coming upon it suddenly, as a turn in the path brought them sharply down to a lower level. It was very picturesque. Against the strip of blue sky seen through the fissure or cleft which formed the creek, stood out clearly the outline of a small fishing craft, drawn up on the shingly beach; while down below, the water, darkened by the shade of the rocks on each side, gleamed black and mysterious.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'WHERE ARE THE CAVES, NEVILLE?']

'What a queer place!' said Kathleen. 'Where are the caves, Neville? I don't see any.'

'I suppose they are facing the sea. We must make our way round over the stones at the edge of the water if we want to see them. It isn't deep, though it looks so dark. You needn't be afraid,' said Neville, beginning the scramble.

But Kathleen hung back.

'Neville,' she said, 'you're quite sure there aren't any smugglers now?'

'Of course not,' said Neville, rather disdainfully. 'Kathie, you shouldn't be so boasting about never being frightened, and all that, if you are really so babyish.'

'I'm not babyish. Neville, you're very unkind. You never were so unkind in London,' said Kathie, looking ready to cry.

'I don't mean to be unkind,' said Neville, stopping short in his progress, one foot on a big stone, the other still on the gra.s.s near the edge of the water. 'But if you're the least afraid, Kathie, either of smugglers or of the scramble--it will be a scramble, I see--you'd better not come. Supposing you go up to that little cottage--there's quite a nice old woman living there--while I go on to the caves? I'll come back for you in ten minutes or so.'

'Very well,' said Kathie; 'I think I'd better, perhaps. It isn't for the smugglers, Neville. I wouldn't let _you_ go if there was any chance of there being any. But I'm rather afraid of tumbling. Are you sure it's safe for you, Neville?'

'Oh, yes. Aunty told me I might go any day. She explained all about it to me.'

'Well, then, don't be long;' and so saying, Kathleen began making her way up the slope to the little cottage Neville had pointed out.

It was a very tiny place. There was no garden, but a little patch of gra.s.s had been roughly railed in, and on this two or three chickens were pecking about. A very old woman came to the door on seeing Kathleen approaching, with a smile on her brown, wrinkled, old face.

'Good morning, miss,' she said in very good English. 'Would you like to rest a bit?'

'Thank you,' said Kathie; 'I'd like to wait a few minutes, if you don't mind, till my brother comes to fetch me. He's gone down to see the caves.'

'To be sure,' said the old woman. 'Perhaps you'd like best to wait outside; it's pleasant in the air this morning;' and she quickly brought out a chair, and set it for Kathie against the wall of the cottage.

'And you'll be the young lady and gentleman from Ty-gwyn? Dear, dear!'

'What do you say that for?' asked Kathie, not quite sure if she was pleased or vexed at the state of the family affairs being evidently understood by this old woman.

'No offence, miss,' said the dame. 'I'm not of this country, miss, though I've lived here nigh thirty years, and I've seen a deal in my time. I was kitchen-maid when I was a girl in London town.'

'Indeed,' said Kathleen; 'that must have been a _very_ long time ago;'

which was perhaps not a very polite speech.

'And so it is--a very long time ago. A matter of fifty years, miss.'

'Indeed,' said Kathleen, opening her eyes; 'that is a very long time.'

[Ill.u.s.tration]

'And yet I can remember things as happened then as if they'd been yesterday,' said the old woman. 'There was a queer thing happened in the house of my missis's father. He was a very old man, not to say quite right in his head, and when he died there was papers missing that had to do with the money some way. And would you believe, miss, where they was found? In his pillow, hid right away among the feathers! There's many folk as'll hide money and papers in a mattress, but I never heard tell before or since of hiding in a pillow; and it's been in my mind ever since Farmer Davis told me of the trouble at Ty-gwyn to ask the lady if she'd ever thought of looking in the pillows.'

'Who is Farmer Davis?' asked Kathleen, for the name seemed familiar.

'Him who lives at Dol-bach,' said the old woman. 'He travelled in the railway with you and the young gentleman. You should go to see him some day, miss. He'd be proud; and the old lady thought a deal of him and his wife.'

'Yes,' said Kathleen, 'I'd like to go to see him. He was very kind to us. There's my brother coming,' she went on, as she caught sight of Neville coming up the hill. 'Thank you very much for letting me wait here,' and she got up to go.