“Oh, George will probably go and live in Timmy’s kennel with him,” said Dick, with a chuckle. “Ha — look! The sea — and Kirrin Bay — AND the little old island as lovely as ever!”

“With its gulls circling round, and mewing like cats,” said Julian. “And the old ruined castle there, just exactly the same as usual. Not a single stone fallen out of it, as far as I can see.”

“You can’t possibly see that at this distance,” said Anne, screwing up her eyes. “Oh, isn’t the first day of the hols heavenly? We seem to have all the time in the world in front of us!”

“Yes. And then, alas, after a few days, the holidays rush by,” said Julian. “I wonder if George is home by now.”

“Well, her taxi passed us going at a tremendous pace!” said Dick. “I bet old George was shouting at the driver to go as fast as possible!”

“Look — there’s Kirrin Cottage — I can just see the chimneys in the distance,” said Dick. “Smoke is coming from one of them.”

“Funny — why only one?” said Julian. “They usually have the kitchen fire going, and a fire in Uncle Quentin’s study. He’s such a cold mortal when he’s working out all his wonderful figures for his inventions.”

“Perhaps he’s away,” said Anne, hopefully. She was rather afraid of George’s hasty-tempered father. “I should think Uncle Quentin could do with a holiday at times — he’s always buried in rows and rows of figures.”

“Well, let’s hope we don’t disturb him too much,” said Julian. “It’s hard on Aunt Fanny if he keeps yelling at everyone. We’ll try and be out of doors most of the time.”

They were nearly at Kirrin Cottage now. As they came near to the front gate, they saw George come running down the garden-path. To Julian’s horror, she was crying bitterly.

“I say — it does look as if something has happened to old Timmy,” he said, scared. “It’s not like George to cry — she never cries! What can have happened?”

In great alarm they began to run, and Anne shouted as she ran, “George! George, what’s the matter? Is something wrong with Timmy? What’s happened?”

“We can’t stay at home,” wept George. “We’ve got to go away somewhere. Something awful’s happened!”

“What is it? Tell us, you idiot!” said Dick, in alarm. “For goodness’ sake, what’s happened? Is Timmy run over, or something?”

“No — it isn’t Timmy,” said George, wiping her eyes with her hand, because, as usual, she had no handkerchief. “It’s Joan — Joan, our dear, darling cook!”

“What’s the matter with her?” asked Julian, thinking of all kinds of dreadful things. “GEORGE, will you please TELL US!”

“Joan’s got scarlet fever,” said George, sniffing dolefully. “So we can’t be at Kirrin Cottage.”

“Why not?” demanded Dick. “Joan will have to go to a fever hospital — and we can all stay at Kirrin Cottage and help your mother. Poor old Joan! But cheer up, George, scarlet fever isn’t much of a thing to have nowadays. Come on — let’s go in and see if we can comfort your mother. Poor old Aunt Fanny, she will be in a stew — with all of us four cousins at Kirrin Cottage too! Never mind, we can…”