where red valerian sprouted out of yellow stonecrop.

A wishing gate led into the garden, and Isabel made for an open
window, but halfway over the sill she paused, gazing with all her
soul in her eyes across the vicarage gooseberry bushes. That
grey suit was Val's of course, but who was inside the belted coat
and riding breeches? "Rows-lee!" sang out Isabel, tumbling back
into the garden with a generous display of leg. The raiders rose
up each holding a handful of large red strawberries melting ripe,
and Isabel, pitching in her racquet on a sofa, ran across the
grass and enfolded her brother in her arms. Rowsley, dark and
slight and shrewd, returned her hug with one arm, while carefully
guarding his strawberries with the other--"You pig, you perfect
pig!" wailed Isabel. "I was saving them for tea tomorrow,
Laura's coming and I can't afford a cake. Oh joy, you can buy me
one! How long can you stay?"

"Over the week end: but I didn't come to buy you cakes, Baby. I
haven't any money either. I came because I wanted you to buy me
cakes."

"O well never mind, I'll make one," Isabel joyously slipped her
hand through Rowsley's arm. "Then I can get the flour from the
baker and it won't cost anything at all--it'll go down in the
bill. Well give me one anyhow, now they're picked it would be a
pity to waste them." She helped herself liberally out of Val's
hand. "Now stop both of you, you can't have any more."

She linked her other arm in Val's and dragged her brothers out of
the dangerous proximity of the strawberry beds. Val sat down on