It was very quiet in the shadow of the pine trees.
A red squirrel scampered along a branch while Skye and Hector lay on a heather mound and talked.
Skye made her apologies for her absence during the morning.
“Some friends of my grandfather’s have arrived,” she said, “they were motoring and so we were uncertain when to expect them and, of, course, they came just as I was leaving the house. I had to play hostess. They are both old and rather dull and, I am glad to say, wanted to spend a quiet afternoon writing letters. I could not have been more pleased to escape when luncheon was over.”
“What made you come this way?” Hector asked.
“I was going to your house,” Skye said. “I thought there was every chance of my missing you, but you might have told your mother which direction you were goi
