crew staircase was old and worn, and seemed to twist
round and round in an absolutely endless ascent as the girls toiled up
its hundred-and-eighty-six steps. To add to their difficulties, parties
of people kept coming down, and the problem of passing was difficult; it
could only be accomplished by the school flattening itself against the
walls while the descending sightseers gingerly made their way round the
narrow centre of the staircase. Tiny lancet windows here and there let
in streams of sunshine, but most of the pilgrimage was made in a
decidedly "dim religious light". Everyone's knees were aching when at
last they emerged through a small door on to the causeway. They were
standing on a flat terrace edged by a stone parapet just tall enough to
allow them to lean their arms on it and look over. Above them rose the
spire, tapering thinner and thinner till its slender point ended in a
weather-cock. Below, the town lay spread out like an architect's design.
They could see the roofs of all the buildings, and the streets, and the
lawns, and the pond in the park; all seemed viewed at an unusual angle,
for they were gazing down on the tops of things. Round the town
stretched miles of misty woods and fields, melting into the grey haze
of the fells. The objects of attraction mentioned by the verger--the
jail, cemetery, and lunatic asylum--were not particularly conspicuous,
and nobody was very anxious to localize them. The girls walked all round
the causeway, so as to get the view at every point.

"I suppose Pendlemere's over there?" said Diana, pointing a brown-gloved
finger in the direction of the fells.

"Yes; you can see the road we came by in the 'bus," explained Stuart.
"It winds round by Athelton. There's a much shorter way back, though, if
we were walking. Do you see that white farm-house on the hill above the
park? Well, you go through the fold-yard, across a field, and down a
lane, then there's a straight path over the moor, right to Pendlemere.
It saves two miles at least. Hilary and Nesta and I walked it once with
Miss Todd."

"Dinky, I should guess."

"Nice in summer, but it might be pretty wet now."

Most of the girls agreed that coming down steps was rather worse than
going up. Their ankles ached when they reached the bottom. The old
verger was taking the sixpences of another party of tourists, and
telling them, in his wheezy voice, to look out for the cemetery, the
jail, and the lunatic asylum--to him evi