The twins did not talk that night, and decided next morning not to
say a word, but just to ask their mother to come for an evening walk
with them. The fear was that she might demand reasons. But, quite
oddly, she consented without question. It seemed to the twins that
it was Mrs. Arlington herself who took the pathway leading past the
cave, and when they reached the Cross Stones she sat down and
apparently had forgotten their existence. They stole away without
her noticing them, but did not quite know what to do with
themselves. They ran for half a mile till they came to the wood;
there they remained awhile, careful not to venture within; and then
they crept back. They found their mother sitting just as they had
left her. They thought she was asleep, but her eyes were wide open.
They were tremendously relieved, though what they had feared they
never knew. They sat down, one on each side of her, and each took a
hand, but in spite of her eyes being open, it was quite a time
before she seemed conscious of their return. She rose and slowly
looked about her, and as she did so the church clock struck nine.
She could not at first believe it was so late. Convinced by looking
at her watch--there was just light enough for her to see it--she
became all at once more angry than the twins had ever known her, and
for the first time in their lives they both experienced the
sensation of having their ears boxed. Nine o'clock was the proper
time for supper and they were half an hour from home, and it was all
their fault. It did not take them half an hour. It took them
twenty minutes, Mrs. Arlington striding ahead and the twins panting
breathless behind her. Mr. Arlington had not yet returned. He came
in five minutes afterwards, and Mrs. Arlington told him what she
thought of him. It was the shortest supper within the twins'
recollection. They found themselves in bed ten minutes in advance