‘Come and walk with us, then,’ said Dick. So George caught up the others, and tried not to look too sulky. Mr. Roland guessed that Dick had been trying to make George behave, and he included her in his talk. He could not make her laugh, but she did at least answer politely.
‘Is that Kirrin Farmhouse?’ asked Mr. Roland, as they came in sight of the farm.
‘Yes. Do you know it ?’ asked Julian, in surprise.
‘No, no,’ said Mr. Roland, at once. ‘I heard of it, and wondered if that was the place.’
‘We went there this morning,’ said Anne. ‘It’s an exciting place.’ She looked at the others, wondering if they would mind if she said anything about the things they had seen that morning. Julian thought for a moment. After all, it couldn’t matter telling him about the stone in the kitchen and the false back to the cupboard. Mrs. Sanders would tell anyone that. He could speak about the sliding panel in the hall too, and say they had found an old recipe book there. He did not need to say anything about the old bit of marked linen.
So he told their tutor about the exciting things they had seen at the old farmhouse, but said nothing at all about the linen and its strange markings. Mr. Roland listened with the greatest interest.
‘This is all very remarkable,’ he said. ‘Very remarkable indeed. Most interesting. You say the old couple live there quite alone ?’
‘Well, they are having two people to stay over Christmas,’ said Dick, ‘Artists. Julian thought he would go over and talk to them. He can paint awfully well, you know.’ ’
‘Can he really?’ said Mr. Roland. ‘Well, he must show me some of, his pictures. But I don’t think he’d better go and worry the artists at the farmhouse. They mieht not like it.’
This remark made Julian feel obstinate. He made up his mind at once that he would go and talk to the two artists when he got the chance! ,
It was quite a pleasant walk on the whole except that George was quiet, and Timothy would not go anywhere near Mr. Roland. When they came to a frozen pond Dick threw sticks on it for Tim to fetch. It was so funny to see him go slithering about on his long legs, trying to run properly!
Everyone threw sticks for the dog, and Tim fetched all the ^sticks except Mr. Roland’s. When the tutor threw a stick the dog looked at it and took no more notice It was almost as if he had said. ‘What, your stick! No thank you!’
‘Now, home we go,’ said Mr. Roland, trying not to look annoyed with Tim. ‘We shall just be in time for tea!’
Chapter Six
LESSONS WITH MR. ROLAND
NEXT morning the children felt a little gloomy. Lessons! How horrid in the holidays! Still, Mr. Roland wasn’t so bad. The children had not had him with them in the sitting-room the night before, because he had gone to talk to their uncle. So they were able to get out the mysterious bit of linen again and pore over it.
But it wasn’t a bit of good. Nobody could make anything of it at all. Secret Way! What did it mean? Was it really directions for a Secret Way? And where was the way, and why was it secret? It was most exasperating not to be able to find out.
‘I really feel we’ll have to ask someone soon,’ Julian had said with a sigh. ‘I can’t bear this mystery much longer. I keep on and on thinking of it.’
He had dreamt of it too that night, and now it was morning, with lessons ahead. He wondered what lesson Mr. Roland would take – Latin perhaps. Then he could ask him what the words ‘VIA OCCULTA’ meant.
Mr. Roland had seen all their reports and had noted the subjects they were weak in. One was Latin, and another was French. Maths were very weak in both Dick’s report and George’s. Both children must be helped on in those. Geometry was Julian’s weakest spot.
Anne was not supposed to need any coaching. ‘But if you like to come along and join us, I’ll give you some
painting to do,’ said Mr. Roland, his blue eyes twinkling at her. He liked Anne. She was not difficult and sulky like George.
Anne loved painting. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, happily, Td love to do some painting. I can paint flowers, Mr. Roland. I’ll paint you some red poppies and blue cornflowers out of my head.’
‘We will start at half-past nine,’ said Mr. Roland. ‘We are to work in the sitting-room. Take your school-books there, and be ready punctually.’
So all the children were there, sitting round a table, their books in front of them, at half-past nine. Anne had some painting water and her painting-box. The others looked at her enviously. Lucky Anne, to be doing painting whilst they worked hard at difficult things like Latin and maths!
‘Where’s Timothy?’ asked Julian in a low voice, as they waited for their tutor to come in.
‘Under the table/ said George, defiantly. Tm sure he’ll lie still. Don’t any of you say anything about him. I want him there. I’m not going to do lessons without Tim here.’
‘I don’t see why he shouldn’t be here with us,’ said Dick. ‘He’s very very good. Sh! Here comes Mr. Roland.’
The tutor came in, his black beard bristling round his mouth and chin. His eyes looked very piercing in the pale winter sunlight that filtered into the room. He told the children to sit down.
‘I’ll have a look at your exercise books first,’ he said, ‘and see what you were doing last term. You come first, Julian.’
Soon the little class were working quietly together. Anne was very busy painting a bright picture of poppies and cornflowers. Mr. Roland admired it very much. Anne thought he really was very nice.
Suddenly there was a huge sigh from under the table. It was Tim, tired of lying so still Mr. Roland looked up, surprised. George at once sighed heavily, hoping that Mr. Roland would think it was she who had sighed before.
‘You sound tired, Georgina,’ said Mr. Roland. ‘You shall all have a little break at eleven.’
George frowned. She hated being called Georgina. She put her foot cautiously on Timothy to warn him not to make any more noises. Tim licked her foot.
After a while, just when the class was at its very quietest, Tim felt a great wish to scratch himself very hard on his back. He got up. He sat down again with a thump, gave a grunt, and began to scratch himself furiously. The children all began to make noises to hide the sounds that Tim was making.
George clattered her feet on the floor. Julian began to cough, and let one of his book slip to the ground. Dick jiggled the table and spoke to Mr. Roland.
‘Oh dear, this sum is so hard; it really is! I keep doing it and doing it, and it simply won’t come right!’
‘Why all this sudden noise ?’ said Mr. Roland in surprise. ‘Stop tapping the floor with your feet, Georgina.3
Tim settled down quietly again. The children gave a sigh of relief. They became quiet, and Mr. Roland told Dick to corne to him with his maths book.
The tutor took it, and stretched his legs out under the table, leaning back to speak to Dick. To his enormous surprise his feet struck something soft and warm -and then something nipped him sharply on the ankle! He drew in his feet with a cry of pain.
The children stared at him. He bent down and looked under the table. ‘It’s that dog,’ he said, in disgust. ‘The brute snapped at my ankles. He has made a hole in my trousers. Take him out, Georgina.’
Georgina said nothing. She sat as though she had not heard.
‘She won’t answer if you call her Georgina,’ Julian reminded him.
‘She’ll answer me whatever I call her,’ said Mr. Roland, in a low and angry voice. ‘I won’t have that dog in here. If you don’t take him out this very minute, Georgina, I will go to your father.’
George looked at him. She knew perfectly well that if she didn’t take Tim out, and Mr. Roland went to her father, he would order Timothy to live in the garden kennel, and that would be dreadful. There was absolutely nothing to be done but obey. Red in the face, a huge frown almost hiding her eyes, she got up and spoke to Tim.
‘Come on, Tim! I’m not surprised you bit him. I would, too, if I were a dog!’
‘There is no need to be rude, Georgina,’ said Mr. Roland, angrily.
The others stared at George. They wondered how she dared to say things like that. When she got fierce it seemed as if she didn’t care for anyone at all!