to Chagmouth. They come over nearly every Saturday with Dr. Tremayne."

"Good! Then we shall see something of them. Hello! What's this car trying
to pass us? Babbie Williams! I'd forgotten for the moment she lives at
Chagmouth too."

It was Babbie, driving in solitary state, who flew by in the big motor,
which turned up the side road that led to The Warren. She gave a friendly
nod as she passed, and the six 'sardines' smiled in return.

"It's a case of 'we are seven' from Chagmouth," commented Fay. "If we
include Mavis and Merle that would make nine. I guess we'll get up a set
of nature study rambles on Saturday afternoons and all go out together.
We'd have some real frolics!"

"Rather! I'm your girl! Romola and I are ready for any fun that's going.
That's to say if there's going to be time for any fun. But with all the
pile of lessons Miss Mitchell has given us we shall be busy, with our
noses at the grindstone. It always takes both of us hours to do our
prep!"

The car meanwhile, with Mr. Vicary at the driving-wheel, had run across
the moor and down the steep hill, and was jolting over the cobble-stones
of the narrow main street of Chagmouth. It stopped outside the Post
Office, for the principal reason that if it went any farther it would be
impossible for it to turn round, and the girls, dismounting, took their
satchels or piles of books, said good-bye to one another, and scattered
to their respective homes. Beata and Romola crossed the bridge that
spanned the brook, skirted the harbour, climbed a flight of steps cut in
the solid rock, and reached a house which stood on the top of a high crag