But Mary was still rebellious. She wasn't interested in Tom or even in baked potatoes. She wanted Macbeth.

"We'd better take care that Mrs. Thurston doesn't come up the valley again and find us," David said. "We're making enough noise for her to hear us from Witchend. We need a look-out. What about you, Mary? Will you go up and report?"

"He's too small and lonely for me to see him from up there," she protested, "but I'll try."

They pushed her up, and rather gloomily she admitted that she could see a long way. Meanwhile, Peter filled the kettle and built up the fire, Dickie went off whistling into the wood for more fuel, while David sorted out potatoes.

Suddenly Mary squeaked. "Be quiet, all of you. I can see them."

David swung himself up beside her, calling as he did so: "Stop the fire smoking too much, Peter. Well done, Mary. Now show me."

She pointed down to Witchend and David saw his mother walking over to the gate with Mrs. Thurston.

"Don't think she'll come up the valley, Mary. She's going home by Ingles. Tom will probably meet her."

He was right. They saw her shake hands with Mrs. Morton and then walk off down the lane without looking back.

"Come down now, Mary. We don't need a guard any more, and we've got to get ready for Tom."