But George did! “Are you having a picnic here too?” she said. Martin shook his head.

“No. I’ve not brought any sandwiches.”

“Well, we’ve plenty. Stay and have some with us when we eat them,” said George, generously.

“Thanks. It’s very nice of you,” said the boy. “And will you come and see my television set this afternoon in return! I’d like you to.”

“Yes, we will,” said George. “It would be something to do! Oh Anne — just look at those violets! I’ve never seen such big white ones before. Won’t Mother be pleased?”

The boys went deeper down, scraping about with their trowels in any likely place. They came to where a shelf of stone projected out a good way. It would be a nice place to have their lunch. The stone would be warm to sit on, and was flat enough to take ginger-beer bottles and cups in safety.

At half past twelve they all had their lunch. They were very hungry. Martin shared their sandwiches, and became quite friendly over them.

“Best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted,” he said. “I do like those sardine ones. Does your mother make them for you? I wish I had a mother. Mine died ages ago.”

There was a sympathetic silence. The four could not think of any worse thing to happen to a boy or girl. They offered Martin the nicest buns, and the biggest piece of cake immediately.

“I saw your father flashing his signals last night,” said Martin, munching a bun.

Dick looked up at once. “How do you know he was signalling?” he asked. “Who told you?”

“Nobody,” said the boy. “I just saw the six flashes, and I thought it must be George’s father.” He looked surprised at Dick’s sharp tone. Julian gave Dick a nudge, to warn him not to go off the deep end again.

George scowled at Dick. “I suppose you saw my father signalling this morning too,” she said to Martin. “I bet scores of people saw the flashes. He just heliographs with a mirror at half past ten to signal that he’s all right — and flashes a lantern at the same time at night.”

Now it was Dick’s turn to scowl at George. Why give away all this information? It wasn’t necessary. Dick felt sure she was doing it just to pay him out for his sharp question. He tried to change the subject.

“Where do you go to school?” he asked.

“I don’t,” said the boy. “I’ve been ill.”

“Well, where did you go to school before you were ill?” asked Dick.

“I — I had a tutor,” said Martin. “I didn’t go to school.”

“Bad luck!” said Julian. He thought it must be terrible not to go to school and have all the fun, the work and the games of school-life. He looked curiously at Martin. Was he one of these rather stupid boys who did no good at school, but had to have a tutor at home? Still he didn’t look stupid. He just looked rather sullen and dull.