"Very well, then," said Aunt May, "if you'd like one of these, you shall
have it directly it's old enough to be sent away--as a memory of to-day,
and as a thankofferin', too. Which would you like," she added, "Psyche,
Cicero, or Circe? This is Cicero, this is Circe, and this is Psyche."

"Why do all their names begin with 'S'?" Gregory asked; and it was not till
he told Janet about it that he understood why it was that everyone had
laughed so.

"And if you may keep two," Aunt May went on, speaking to Gregory, "I shall
send you one of the next litter. Vesta is going to have puppies soon. You
must write and let me know. And now, if your man has finished, I expect
you'd like to be gettin' on, or the others will be nervous about you."

And so, after Hester had chosen Circe, they all said very affectionate
farewells, and the Slowcoach rumbled forth again.

Meanwhile, what of Janet and Robert and Mary and Jack and Horace? They had
had no adventures at all--nothing but scenery and a pleasant picnic.

Robert had been rightly told about the summit of Bredon Hill, for there the
grass is as short as on the South Downs, and there is a deep fosse in which
to shelter from the wind.

The hill at this western point ends suddenly, at a kind of precipice, and
you look right over the valley of the Avon and the Severn to the Malverns.
Just below on the south-west is Tewkesbury, where the Severn and the Avon
meet, after that becoming the Severn only all the way to Bristol and the
sea. In the far south-west rises the point of the Sugar Loaf at