“I think it’s only fair that the girls should take their turn in going out,” exclaimed Agnes briskly. She was great on fairness.

“Nonsense,” said the others; “there are too many of us.”

“Well, four of us can go. I’ll be one of them.”

And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three less eager damsels.

Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at the Wrotsleys, just a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter, escaping from the fangs of the hounds into the safety of a deep pool, might have given a similar demonstration of feelings.

From the library came the sound of moving furniture. Agnes was leaving nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical chocolates. And then came a more blessed sound, wheels crunching wet gravel.