'The message then was authentic,' she said to herself. 'I thought I
could not have misunderstood it.'
On Sunday morning Clara wished to stay at home. She pleaded that she
preferred rest, but Mrs Caffyn vowed there should be no Norbury Park
if Clara did not go, and the kind creature managed to persuade a pig-
dealer to drive them over to Letherhead for a small sum,
notwithstanding it was Sunday. The whole party then set out; the
baby was drawn in a borrowed carriage which also took the provisions,
and they were fairly out of the town before the Letherhead bells had
ceased ringing for church. It was one of the sweetest of Sundays,
sunny, but masses of white clouds now and then broke the heat. The
park was reached early in the forenoon, and it was agreed that dinner
should be served under one of the huge beech trees at the lower end,
as the hill was a little too steep for the baby-carriage in the hot
sun.
'This is very beautiful,' said Marshall, when dinner was over, 'but
it is not what we came to see. We ought to move upwards to the
Druid's grove.'
'Yes, you be off, the whole lot of you,' said Mrs Caffyn. 'I know
every tree there, and I ain't going there this afternoon. Somebody
must stay here to look after the baby; you can't wheel her, you'll
have to carry her, and you won't enjoy yourselves much more for
moiling along with her up that hill.'
'I will stay with you,' said Clara.
Everybody protested, but Clara was firm. She was tired, and the sun
had given her a headache. Madge pleaded that it was she who ought to
remain behind, but at last gave way for her sister looked really
fatigued.
'There's a dear child,' said Clara, when Madge consented to go. 'I
shall lie on the grass and perhaps go to sleep.'
'It is a pity,' said Baruch to Madge as they went away, 'that we are
separated; we must come again.'
'Yes, I am sorry, but perhaps it is better she should be where she
is; she is not particularly strong, and is obliged to be very
careful.' In due time they all came to the famous yews, and sat down on one of
the seats overlooking that wonderful gate in the chalk downs through
which the Mole passes northwards.
'We must go,' said Marshall, 'a little bit further and see the oak.'
'Not another step,' said his wife. 'You can go it you like.'