ly season of the year the trees were still bare, and only
a few green buds showed here and there on the hedges. The gardens were
full of golden daffodils and clumps of opening polyanthus; but
primroses--which had long been in blossom in the sheltered garden at
Briarcroft--were here only venturing into bud. As the inn looked clean
and attractive, the three decided to leave their bicycles there, and to
have a lunch of ham and eggs and coffee before setting out on their
climb.

"Then we can take our sandwiches with us. We're sure to want them up
there," said Donald.

"Yes; best to fortify ourselves thoroughly before we start," agreed Meg.

"Billy'll be fearfully sick when he hears where we've been," said Gipsy.

"Poor old Billy-ho! Yes, he'd have liked to follow us with his camera;
but he's not quite up to tackling Hawes Fell just at present," agreed
Meg.

The inn was a delightfully quaint, old-fashioned, primitive little
place, such as is not often found in these days of modern improvements.
Gipsy, who had had no opportunity before of seeing English country life,
was enchanted with its sanded floor, its oak dresser with rows of
willow-pattern plates, its pewter mugs and dishes, and the great brass
preserving-pan that was set in the ingle-nook. She admired the oak beams
of the ceiling, the rows of plant pots in the long mullioned window, the
settle drawn up by the big fireplace, and the glass cases of stuffed
pike and game birds that adorned the walls.

The lunch was a great success--a smoking dish of fried ham and eggs,
home-made bread and farmhouse butter, thin oatcakes and moorland honey,
and coffee, with thick yellow cream to pour into it.

"Beats school, doesn't it?" said Donald, with a chuckle of enjoyment, as
he helped himself to a third serving of honey. "I say, though, we
shan't have to stop too long feasting here if we mean to get to the top
of Hawes Fell. It's a jolly good step, I can tell you."

"We're ready!" returned Meg smartly. "We were only waiting for you to
finish gormandizing."

"Thanks for the compliment! One doesn't get the chance of heather honey
every day, and I've a remarkably sweet tooth. Anything in the way of jam
or preserves left near me invariably vanishes."

The way up the fell lay first over the old stone bridge that spanned the
river, then across fields, and by a narrow footpath leading up a steep
and thickly-wooded hillside. Though the trees were still in their winter
garb they