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They had gone perhaps half a mile when they heard a warning hoot behind them, and, looking round, what should Merle see but the little Deemster car with Dr. Tremayne at the driving-wheel. She shouted wildly and stopped him. "Oh, Uncle David! Are you going back to Durracombe? Could you possibly take Beata at any rate! Her car will be waiting for her at school. We'd be everlastingly grateful!"
It was now the turn of our party from Durracombe, who were trying to keep up one another's spirits behind the scenes. The audience, owing to long sitting still, was growing a little obstreperous. The chairman had to keep constantly ringing a bell and reminding people to be quiet.
The remarkably mild climate of Durracombe made the place peculiarly suitable for those who had been born in India or other hot countries, and so many more boarders had been entered for this term that the school was practically doubled.
Mavis sketched her portrait, adding wings and a halo, and printed underneath "Saint Merle suffering her Martyrdom." Mother clicked away on the typewriter, and deposited a document in her daughter's room, which claimed to be: Extract from "The Durracombe and Devon Times" It is with sincere regret that we record the indisposition of that leader of our local social life, Miss Merle Ramsay.
Couldn't get any crackers at those wretched shops in Chagmouth either." "D'you want crackers?" "Rather!" "They had a lot of fireworks last November at Hodges' in Durracombe. Perhaps they'd have some left." "Oh, good bizz! We'll stop in the High Street and see, before we go into school." They were in excellent time, so they called a halt at Hodges' shop and dismissed the car.
Durracombe was not quite so good a neighbourhood for flowers as Chagmouth; still, they found a fair variety, and were able to chronicle early blooms of such specimens as the greater stitchwort, the ground ivy, and the golden saxifrage. It was a fresh March day, with a wind blowing scudding white clouds across a pale blue sky.
They were charming people, and ready to fall in with the young folk's plans and give them a thoroughly happy holiday. They had brought a motor- bicycle and side-car, and took some excursions round the neighbourhood, going over often to Durracombe to see Dr. and Mrs. Tremayne, glad to have the opportunity of a private chat with them while their lively son was safely picnicking with Mavis and Merle.
The big new skylight had only just been fitted into the roof, and the stove which was to heat it during the winter was still at Durracombe station waiting for the carrier to fetch it, but canvases were already hung round the walls, the throne was erected and the big easel placed in position, and an old fisherman, with weather-beaten countenance and picturesque stained jersey, sat every morning for his portrait.
It was she who spoke first quite a conventional inquiry but decidedly to the point. "Are you staying in Chagmouth?" she asked. "We've only come over for the day from Durracombe," answered Merle. The three strangers looked immediately interested. "Durracombe! Why, we're going to start school there next week!" "Never at 'The Moorings'!" gasped Merle excitedly. "That's the place! Do you go there too?
The girls were almost weeping when it came to saying good-bye to Burswood Farm, and to Mr. and Mrs. Who welcomed us to Burswood Farm Amid the heart of Devon's charm, With skies so blue and seas so calm? 'Twas Mrs. Treasure. Who was it chopped our logs of wood To make our fires so bright and good, And brought from Durracombe our food? 'Twas Mr. Treasure.
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