“Well, let’s go for a walk on the moors at the back of Kirrin Cottage,” said George. “Timmy would love that. Wouldn’t you, Tim?”

“Woof,” said Timmy, thumping his tail hard on the ground.

“Take your lunch with you if you like,” said her mother. “I’ll pack some for you.”

“You’ll be glad to be rid of us for a little while, I expect, Aunt Fanny,” said Dick, with a grin. “I know what we’ll do. We’ll go to the old quarry and look for prehistoric weapons! We’ve got a jolly good museum at school, and I’d like to take back some stone arrow-heads or something like that.”

They all liked hunting for things. It would be fun to go to the old quarry, and it would be lovely and warm in the hollow there.

“I hope we shan’t find a poor dead sheep there, as we once did,” said Anne, with a shudder. “Poor thing! It must have fallen down and baa-ed for help for ages.”

“Of course we shan’t,” said Julian. “We shall find stacks of primroses and violets though, growing down the sides of the quarry. They are always early there because it’s sheltered from every wind.”

“I should love to have bunches of primroses,” said his aunt. “Nice big ones! Enough to put all over the house.”

“Well, while the boys are looking for arrow-heads we’ll look for primroses,” said Anne, pleased. “I like picking flowers.”

“And Timmy, of course, will hunt for rabbits, and will hope to bring home enough for you to decorate the larder from top to bottom,” said Dick, solemnly. Timmy looked thrilled and gave an excited little woof.

They waited for Uncle Quentin’s signal at half past ten. It came — six flashes of a mirror in the sun. The flashes were quite blinding.

“Nice little bit of heliographing!” said Dick. “Good morning and good-bye, Uncle! We’ll watch for you tonight. Now, everybody ready?”

“Yes! Come on, Tim! Who’s got the sandwiches? I say, isn’t the sun hot!”

Off they all went. It was going to be a really lovely day!

The quarry was not really very far — only about a quarter of a mile. The children went for a walk beforehand, for Timmy’s sake. Then they made for the quarry.

It was a queer place. At some time or other it had been deeply quarried for stone, and then left to itself. Now the sides were covered with small bushes and grass and plants of all kinds. In the sandy places heather grew.

The sides were very steep, and as few people came there, there were no paths to follow. It was like a huge rough bowl, irregular in places, and full of colour now where primroses opened their pale petals to the sky. Violets grew there by the thousand, both white and purple. Cowslips were opening too, the earliest anywhere.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” said Anne, stopping at the top and looking down. “Simply super! I never in my life saw so many primroses — nor such huge ones!”