"Yes. You're coming, old boy. But you won't like the journey much." He raised his voice. "Where are you, twins? Buck up with the bikes else we shall be late."

The twins reappeared with their bicycles.

"Are your tyres hard?" David asked sternly. "Have you got your pumps and puncture sets?"

Dickie looked aggrieved.

"Why do you speak to us like that, David? You're always picking on us. I'll bet that we'll be the ones that make no trouble at all."

"I remember the time that you got a puncture, David," Mary added, "and anyway I think you're the one who ought to blow up our tyres... You're so big and strong...And now please don't interrupt any more because I've got to get Mackie's basket ready..."

The basket was duly fixed to the carrier, and as they tightened the straps the sun came up over the tops of the pine trees above the house and swirled some of the mist away. David, whistling cheerfully, came back with his cycle and laughed at them.

He was ignored.

Then their parents came out, and Mrs Morton said:

"Are you really sure you're going to be all right, twins? Are you certain it's not too far for you?"

"It's very strange," their father remarked, "that whenever we want you to walk or cycle anywhere for us you always say it's too far, or you're too tired, and can't we go in the car! You could all have come in the car yesterday when I took Agnes and your luggage over to Clun, but now you want to cycle! I think you're all crazy! Take care of 'em, David. We'll ring up Keep View from London tonight to see if you've arrived safely, but I know we can trust you."

"You can, Dad, I promise," David said. "Are you ready twins? I bet Tom is waiting for us and as we've got to meet Jenny we shall mess up the whole programme if we're late."

Mr Morton opened the white gate for them as they called good-bye, and pedalled off down the lane.

"Whistle the call, David," Dickie shouted over his shoulder. "I bet Tom will answer,"

Soft, yet piercingly clear, David whistled the peewit's lament. Once, twice - and yet again the lonely little cry echoed down the lane and then, softer yet, came the reply and they knew that Tom had heard them.

"You're late," he said as they cycled up to the farmyard gate. "I've been up for hours." Then he laughed good-humouredly and so the cavalcade started again, with David and Tom leading the way.