The bank here was very high and behind it the grassy levels seemed, in contrast, to be much lower. The track upon which they were walking was bordered on their right by a lagoon, which looked as if it filled as the tide came in. Before them rose the steep little hill which Penny had seen ten minutes earlier, and on the seaward side of the hill was a row of squat cottages. A rough road ran inland towards Winchelsea from the beach, and beyond that again were some modern bungalows and some ramshackle huts made out of old railway carriages.

Penny wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What I can't understand," Jon said, "is how she can live here if she's an artist. It's all so ugly. And yet we know she's an artist because she sketched you for some extraordinary reason!... Fourth along, she said in the note. Come on and let's get the party over," and they turned on to the beach and trudged west along the shingle.

"There she is," Jon said. "Waiting for us. Don't forget what we said and don't play any of your silly tricks what-ever she says or does."

"Just beginning to wonder if you'd lost your way," she boomed. "Glad you could come. How are you, my dear? I met your Jonathan yesterday and he was good enough to admire my work... Come along in..." and she led the way down the shingle path edged with large stones towards the faded green door of the bungalow.

Miss Ballinger apologized for the size of the hall.

"Not much room here, I'm afraid, but that's my fault and not yours... Trouble is I'm too big for the house... Come along in here and let's have some tea," and she opened another door and led the way into a room with a cheerful fire in a miniature kitchen range and a table loaded with cakes and jam.

When they compared notes later they both agreed that their hostess was very entertaining and for half an hour at least she did not ask them many questions - or none which were difficult for them to answer. The tea was wonderful and, as they had had nothing but sandwiches since breakfast, they did full justice to it.

After tea Miss Ballinger invited them to see some of her work. There was no doubt that she was a clever artist, and for a time they were both fascinated by the sketches and paintings that she selected from piles of canvases stacked untidily on the sofa in the front room.

"Why, here's the Dolphin!" Penny called excitedly. "You must have painted this from our wall."

"Yes, I did, but that's some years ago now," the older woman explained. "I did that when I was staying there once, but I'd like to do a better picture one day. Has your mother decided when she's going to open?" she asked Jon.