“Aha! Preparing for the heroes!” said Captain Johnson, and Henry immediately put on a scowl very like the one George often wore.

“Nothing of the sort!” she said. “I’ve been meaning to do it for a long time. If Georgina’s cousins are anything like her I shan’t be very interested in them.”

“But you might like my brothers,” said Anne, with a laugh. “If you don’t there’ll be something wrong with you.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Henrietta. “Georgina’s cousins and your brothers are the same people!”

“How clever of you to work that out,” said George. But she felt too happy to keep up the silly bickering for long. She went out with Timmy, whistling softly.

“They’re coming tomorrow, Tim,” she said. “Julian and Dick. We’ll all go off together, like we always do, the five of us. You’ll like that, won’t you, Timmy?”

“Woof,” said Timmy approvingly and waved his plumy tail. He knew quite well what she meant.

Next morning George and Anne looked up the trains that arrived at the station two miles away. “This is the one they’ll come by,” said George, her finger on the timetable. “It’s the only one this morning. It arrives at half past twelve. We’ll go and meet them.”

“Right,” said Anne. “We’ll start at ten minutes to twelve - we’ll be in plenty of time then. We can help them with their things. They won’t bring much.”

“Take the ponies up to Hawthorn Field, will you?” called Captain Johnson. “Can you manage all four of them?”

“Oh yes,” said Anne pleased. She loved the walk to Hawthorn Field, up a little narrow lane set with celandines, violets and primroses, and the fresh green of the budding hawthorn bushes. “Come on, George, let’s catch the ponies and take them now. It’s a heavenly morning.”

They set off with the four frisky ponies, Timmy at their heels. He was quite a help with the horses at the stable, especially when any had to be caught.

No sooner had they left the stables and gone on their way to Hawthorn Field than the telephone rang. It was for Anne.

“Oh, I’m sorry, she’s not here,” said Mrs Johnson, answering it. “Who is it speaking? Oh, Julian her brother? Can I give her a message?”

“Yes, please,” said Julian’s voice. “Tell her we are arriving at the bus-stop at Milling Green at half past eleven, and is there a little hand-cart she and George could bring, because we’ve got our tent with us and other odds and ends?”

“Oh, we’ll send the little wagon,” said Mrs Johnson. “The one that always goes to meet the train or the bus. I’ll get George to meet you with Anne, they can drive it in. We’re pleased you are coming. The weather’s very good and you’ll enjoy yourselves!”

“Rather!” said Julian. “Thanks awfully for putting us up. We won’t be any trouble, in fact we’ll help all we can.”