her open mouth full of fig.
‘I’m sure she did,’ interrupted Bridie, who tended to say less when Celia was present.
‘No, she didn’t. I was a disappointment. One day when I have a baby girl I will love her very much.’ Kitty grinned, for she wasn’t one for self-pity. ‘Let’s
do something really wicked.’
‘Oh let’s!’ Celia clapped her hands. With Kitty life was always full of excitement and mischief.
‘Perhaps, if we find a frog, Victoria might kiss it in the hope that it turns into a prince. What do you think?’ Kitty laughed. ‘Shall we see if we can find one?’
‘Where would we find a frog?’
‘Down by the river. If we go to the lily pond we’ll risk being seen,’ Kitty replied. ‘What do you think, Bridie?’
‘As long as I don’t have to touch it,’ she replied anxiously. ‘Frogs give you warts.’
‘That’s an old wives’ tale, Bridie,’ said Kitty. ‘Come on. Last one at the river is a rotten egg!’
The three girls ran through the garden. When they reached the wall Celia complained that she’d dirty her dress on the stones. ‘Isn’t there a gate?’
‘Not if we want to go unnoticed,’ said Kitty.
Celia sighed and watched Kitty scale it like a lizard, followed closely by Bridie, whose dress was already dirty so it didn’t matter. Celia clenched her fists and stuck out her bottom lip.
‘I can’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll have to use the gate and risk being caught.’
‘No, you must climb it. It’s not difficult,’ Kitty insisted.
But Celia didn’t move. She folded her arms and went red in the face with indignation. ‘You can’t make me!’
At that moment there came the sound of footsteps on the leafy ground behind them. Kitty swung round, half expecting to find the three tinkers poaching again. She was relieved to see Jack’s
freckly face grinning at her from beneath his cap, his beagle trotting along beside him. ‘So, there you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I thought you were a tinker,’ said Kitty.
‘No tinker would dare enter these woods after . . .’ He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Bridie who stood camouflaged against the wall in her brown dress like a scrawny partridge.
Bridie’s face lit up when she saw him, and she swept back her knotted hair with a grubby hand.
‘Celia won’t climb the wall,’ said Kitty.
‘Come on, Celia. I’ll give you a hand,’ said Jack. He jumped easily onto the wall and reached down. Celia reluctantly accepted his aid and let him pull her up. She smoothed
down her dress and checked for signs of dirt. Jack laughed. ‘What are you girls up to?’
‘We’re going to find a frog,’ said Bridie.
‘We want to give it to Victoria to see if it turns into a prince with a kiss,’ said Kitty with a giggle.
‘You’ll be kind to it now, won’t you?’ Jack asked, concerned.
‘We’ll put it back where we found it, I promise.’
‘Then I’ll show you where to find one. Follow me.’ At that moment Jack’s pet hawk swooped out of the sky and landed onto his thick, protective glove. ‘He’s
been hunting for rabbits and mice,’ said Jack. ‘So far, he hasn’t found anything.’
‘That’s because Papa is out with Cousin Digby and the boys and they’re killing everything that moves,’ said Kitty.
Jack led the way through the long grasses into the crevice of the hillside where the water trickled down to the sea. It was dark among the ferns and moss. Bridie stood behind Kitty as she
crouched down. She didn’t fancy getting too close if one hopped into view. Jack stood in the middle of the stream, hands on hips, gazing about him, more interested in his hawk than in the
search for frogs. Celia kept shouting from the bridge, ‘Have you found one yet?’
At last Kitty spotted a small olive-brown frog among the stones at the water’s edge. With a gasp of excitement, she gently picked it up and cupped it in her hands. ‘Jack!’ she
hissed. ‘I’ve found
‘I’m sure she did,’ interrupted Bridie, who tended to say less when Celia was present.
‘No, she didn’t. I was a disappointment. One day when I have a baby girl I will love her very much.’ Kitty grinned, for she wasn’t one for self-pity. ‘Let’s
do something really wicked.’
‘Oh let’s!’ Celia clapped her hands. With Kitty life was always full of excitement and mischief.
‘Perhaps, if we find a frog, Victoria might kiss it in the hope that it turns into a prince. What do you think?’ Kitty laughed. ‘Shall we see if we can find one?’
‘Where would we find a frog?’
‘Down by the river. If we go to the lily pond we’ll risk being seen,’ Kitty replied. ‘What do you think, Bridie?’
‘As long as I don’t have to touch it,’ she replied anxiously. ‘Frogs give you warts.’
‘That’s an old wives’ tale, Bridie,’ said Kitty. ‘Come on. Last one at the river is a rotten egg!’
The three girls ran through the garden. When they reached the wall Celia complained that she’d dirty her dress on the stones. ‘Isn’t there a gate?’
‘Not if we want to go unnoticed,’ said Kitty.
Celia sighed and watched Kitty scale it like a lizard, followed closely by Bridie, whose dress was already dirty so it didn’t matter. Celia clenched her fists and stuck out her bottom lip.
‘I can’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll have to use the gate and risk being caught.’
‘No, you must climb it. It’s not difficult,’ Kitty insisted.
But Celia didn’t move. She folded her arms and went red in the face with indignation. ‘You can’t make me!’
At that moment there came the sound of footsteps on the leafy ground behind them. Kitty swung round, half expecting to find the three tinkers poaching again. She was relieved to see Jack’s
freckly face grinning at her from beneath his cap, his beagle trotting along beside him. ‘So, there you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I thought you were a tinker,’ said Kitty.
‘No tinker would dare enter these woods after . . .’ He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Bridie who stood camouflaged against the wall in her brown dress like a scrawny partridge.
Bridie’s face lit up when she saw him, and she swept back her knotted hair with a grubby hand.
‘Celia won’t climb the wall,’ said Kitty.
‘Come on, Celia. I’ll give you a hand,’ said Jack. He jumped easily onto the wall and reached down. Celia reluctantly accepted his aid and let him pull her up. She smoothed
down her dress and checked for signs of dirt. Jack laughed. ‘What are you girls up to?’
‘We’re going to find a frog,’ said Bridie.
‘We want to give it to Victoria to see if it turns into a prince with a kiss,’ said Kitty with a giggle.
‘You’ll be kind to it now, won’t you?’ Jack asked, concerned.
‘We’ll put it back where we found it, I promise.’
‘Then I’ll show you where to find one. Follow me.’ At that moment Jack’s pet hawk swooped out of the sky and landed onto his thick, protective glove. ‘He’s
been hunting for rabbits and mice,’ said Jack. ‘So far, he hasn’t found anything.’
‘That’s because Papa is out with Cousin Digby and the boys and they’re killing everything that moves,’ said Kitty.
Jack led the way through the long grasses into the crevice of the hillside where the water trickled down to the sea. It was dark among the ferns and moss. Bridie stood behind Kitty as she
crouched down. She didn’t fancy getting too close if one hopped into view. Jack stood in the middle of the stream, hands on hips, gazing about him, more interested in his hawk than in the
search for frogs. Celia kept shouting from the bridge, ‘Have you found one yet?’
At last Kitty spotted a small olive-brown frog among the stones at the water’s edge. With a gasp of excitement, she gently picked it up and cupped it in her hands. ‘Jack!’ she
hissed. ‘I’ve found
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