Shall we go
for a picnic somewhere?"

"Yes, if the kids don't trail after us! I don't bargain to take Beata,
Romola, Madox, Lilith, Constable, Perugia and perhaps the baby in its
pram!"

"You shan't! I'll see to that. Just Landry and I'll go, and we won't
tell the small fry we're off."

"How about the grotto?"

"A1! I'll ask Lorraine to come with us. The tide will be just right to
get round the rocks, so we'll take our lunch and eat it there."

Lorraine, shamelessly regardless of appointments at the dentist's and
dressmaker's, accepted the invitation, and joined the party with a
picnic-basket. It was an ideal day for the excursion; the warm sunshine
was tempered by a cool breeze blowing in straight from the Atlantic; the
sea had assumed its summer hue of intense blue-green, and the cliffs
were covered with the beautiful crimson wild geranium.

The young people loitered along in no particular hurry, looking out to
sea at the vessels, picking flowers or wild strawberries, or even a few
early dewberries. As they wound up the path by the coast-guard station
they heard voices behind them, and a little party consisting of an
officer and two ladies passed them, walking briskly in the direction of
the moors. Morland, who had saluted, turned to the girls with an
eloquent face.

"It's Blake, our captain," he explained. "I saw him travelling down on
Thursday, and I believe he's staying at the 'George'."

"Do you like him?" asked Claudia.

"Like him? If there's one man on the face of the earth whom I abhor it's
that fellow! Thinks he's the Shah of Persia and we're dirt under his
feet! He's not popular, I can tell you. He makes my blood boil
sometimes!"

"He's dropped something," said Lorraine, bending down and picking up a
small leather dispatch case that was lying by the side of the pathway.
She handed it to Morland.

"Could you run after him and give it to him?" suggested Claudia to her
brother.

"I shan't trouble myself. He's gone too far."

"We can leave it at his hotel afterwards then."

"I suppose we can, though if he flings his things about like this he
doesn't deserve to have them returned to him, the blighter!" groused
Morland, pocketing the case with a frown. "I wish Blake was taking his
leave somewhere else. I'd rather not breathe the same air with him!"

"Is it as bad as all that?" asked Claudia.

"Worse!" said Morland gloomily. "But I don't want to talk about
him--he's the skeleton at the feast--t