“We’ll all go and meet her,” said Anne, still with her eyes on her watch. “Twenty seconds more.”

“We only came here ourselves three days ago,” said Dick. “So she hasn’t really missed much. Surely those eggs will be hard-boiled, Anne!”

Anne stopped looking at her watch. “No, they won’t. They’ll be just right.” She scooped them out of the little saucepan with a big spoon. “Put them in the egg-cups, Dick. There they are — just under your nose.”

Dick picked an egg up from the plate on which Anne had placed them. It was so hot that he dropped it with a yell, and it broke its shell. Yolk flowed out of it.

“DICK! You saw me take it out of boiling water!” said Anne. “Now I’ve got to do another. It’s a pity old Timmy isn’t here. He’d soon have licked that broken egg up from the floor and saved me clearing up the mess.”

“We’ll eat our breakfast sitting on the steps of your caravan, Anne,” said Julian. “The sun’s so lovely.”

So they all sat there, eating boiled eggs, well-buttered bread, with chunky, home-made marmalade afterwards, and then juicy apples. The sun shone down and Julian took off his coat.

Their two caravans were set on a sloping, grassy hillside. A tall hedge grew behind, and kept off the wind. Primroses ran in a pale gold streak under the hedge, and brilliant celandines shone in the sun, turning their polished faces towards it.

Not far off were three more caravans, but they were modern ones. The people staying in those were not yet up, and the doors were fast shut. The three children had had no chance of making friends with them.

On the opposite hill rose an old, ruined castle, whose great walls still defied the gales that sometimes blew over the hills. It had four towers. Three were very much broken, but the fourth looked almost complete. The windows were slitholes, made centuries back when archers shot their arrows from them.

A very steep pathway led up to the castle. At the top of it was a gateway, enormously strong, built of big white blocks of stone. The gateway was now filled by a great screen of wrought-iron to prevent anyone entering, and the only entrance was by a small tower in which was a narrow door. Here there was a turnstile through which visitors might go to see the old castle.

A high, strong wall ran all round the castle, still standing after so many years. Bits of the top of it had fallen down the hill and lay half-buried in grass and weeds. It had once been a magnificent old castle, built on the high, steep hill for safety, a place from which the castle guards might see the country easily for miles around.

As Julian said, anyone up in one of the towers, or even on the wall, would be able to see enemies approaching from seven counties. There would be plenty of time to shut the great gate, man the walls, and get ready to withstand quite a long siege if necessary.