"We arranged the Lone Pine Meeting before your father told us you wouldn't be coming home for a bit. Bad luck. We're all fed up, and hope to see you soon. Your father seemed a bit depressed, and although Mother wanted you to come here, he said you had to go to some farm with an odd name the other side of the Stiperstones. Dickie says is this the mysterious farm you told us about last year? If it is, he will want to come and explore, and so shall we. Anyway, we can't run the Club without you, so buck up and write and tell us what it's like and how you're getting on. I'm going over to Hatchholt tomorrow for Sally. You don't mind me riding her, do you? By the way, I saw Tom last night and he wanted to know when you were coming. He'll be fed, too. Mother and Mary send their love.

"David.

"P.S. - We always said we'd explore the Stiperstones didn't we? Write soon and let us know the chances."

There was nothing to do but make the best of it. Seven Gates would be an adventure, anyway, and even if she was by herself it would not be for more than a few days before her father came back from Birmingham, and then she would join up with the others.

So feeling a little more cheerful, she wandered off to clean and oil her bicycle and alter her packing arrangements. She was not popular with the matron when she told her that she must transfer some things from her already packed trunk to her haversack.

But it was not until she was in her cubicle that night that Peter definitely made up her mind to get the Mortons and Tom to Seven Gates if it was in any way possible. She was just ready for bed when Margaret slipped in and pulled the curtain after her.

"Jolly good about the Essay prize, Peter," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed. Such praise was unlike Margaret, so Peter sensed that something else was coming.

"I suppose you've got to go to these relations of yours tomorrow, haven't you, Peter?" she asked suddenly. "I mean - you didn't seem very bucked about it all, and I sort of wondered whether... whether you'd care to come home with me... I know they would all be glad to have you, Peter, and you could stay with us until you can go home... that is, of course, if you'd really like it..."

Peter was quite overcome. She'd never been particularly friendly with Margaret, but this really was decent of her, and she told her so, but explained why she could not accept.