at such a gorgeous chance. She had been in much
alarm lest she should be sent to Tunbury again to take charge of Terry
for the Easter holidays, or packed off to spend them with Aunt Newton,
who wrote periodical letters suggesting that her great-niece might leave
school and take the place of the depressed companion who had at last
plucked up courage and gone to a more congenial post. Dolmadoc, with its
fresh mountain breezes and glorious views, seemed the very spot to blow
away school cobwebs and to lay up a store of fresh energy for the coming
term. Every corner of it would be like an old friend.

So the Wednesday before Good Friday found Lesbia with the Webster family
in a crowded train bound for North Wales, jammed tightly between two
tourists, with her feet on a portmanteau and Una seated on her knee, but
smiling through all discomforts as she caught the first glimpse of the
grey hills from the carriage window.

Dolmadoc, in the early spring, was a different landscape from what it
had been in its summer dress, and she had to make its acquaintance
afresh. Very little foliage was yet out, but the bare woods held lovely
tints of amber and purple and gold in their naked branches, and the moss
carpet was greener than ever. Here and there primroses spangled the
banks, and bushes of blackthorn--perhaps the most delicate and beautiful
of all blossom--raised white stars against the flecked blue of the sky.
The higher mountains were covered with snow, and the wind was keen and
fresh. It was not possible to sit about in the garden, as they had done
in August, but walks through the brisk air were a joy. They could tramp
twice as far without fatigue. It was delightful to ramble round to all
their old haunts, to revisit the waterfall, to climb to the top of
Pentrevis, to scramble through the thick fir wood on the hill, or--in
rubber boots--to go into the marshy meadows near the river. They had a
special errand here, for the little wild daffodils grew in quantities on
the low-lying fields and were greatly in request for Easter decorations.
The whole of the Webster family, armed with baskets, went on an
expedition to gather them. They passed, by permission, through a
farmer's yard, then made a bee-line across several meadows, climbing
fences and hurdles, till they reached a particular stretch where the
stream flowed into the river. This favoured triangle was yellow with the
daffodils, and although busy hands could pick and pick it s