The children were very interested in all this. They wished they could see Mr. Andrews. He must be a queer sort of fellow, they thought. Anne tried to imagine what he was like.

“Big and tall and dark and frowny,” she thought. “Rather frightening and impatient, and he certainly won’t like children. People like that never do.”

They spent a very pleasant morning poking about the little farm. They went back to see Biddy the collie and her pups. Timmy stood patiently outside the shed, with his tail down. He didn’t like George to take so much interest in other dogs.

A bell rang loudly. “Good! Dinner!” said Jock. “We’d better wash. We’re all filthy. Hope you feel hungry, because I guess Mum’s got a super dinner for us.”

“I feel terribly hungry,” said Anne. “It seems ages since we had breakfast. I’ve almost forgotten it!”

They all felt the same. They went into the farmhouse and were surprised to find a very nice little bathroom to wash in. Mrs. Andrews was there, putting out a clean roller towel.

“Fine little bathroom, isn’t it?” she said. “My husband had it put in for me. First proper bathroom I’ve ever had!”

A glorious smell rose up from the kitchen downstairs. “Come on!” said Jock, seizing the soap. “Let’s hurry. We’ll be down in a minute, Mum!”

And they were. Nobody was going to dawdle over washing when a grand meal lay waiting for them downstairs!

Chapter Seven

Mr. Andrews comes home

They all sat down to dinner. There was a big meat-pie, a cold ham, salad, potatoes in their jackets, and home-made pickles. It really was difficult to know what to choose.

“Have some of both,” said Mrs. Andrews, cutting the meat-pie. “Begin with the pie and go on with the ham. That’s the best of living on a farm, you know — you do get plenty to eat.”

After the first course there were plums and thick cream, or jam tarts and the same cream. Everyone tucked in hungrily.

“I’ve never had such a lovely dinner in my life,” said Anne, at last. “I wish I could eat some more but I can’t. It was super, Mrs. Andrews.”

“Smashing,” said Dick. That was his favourite word these holidays. “Absolutely smashing.”

“Woof,” said Timmy, agreeing. He had had a fine plateful of meaty bones, biscuits and gravy, and he had licked up every crumb and every drop. Now he felt he would like to have a snooze in the sun and not do a thing for the rest of the day.

The children felt rather like that, too. Mrs. Andrews handed them a chocolate each and sent them out of doors. “You go and have a rest now,” she said. “Talk to Jock. He doesn’t get enough company of his own age in the holidays. You can stay on to tea, if you like.”

“Oh, thanks,” said everyone, although they all felt that they wouldn’t even be able to manage a biscuit. But it was so pleasant at the farm that they felt they would like to stay as long as they could.