A HOLIDAY 83 



But there is no day will stand still, and the sun was work- 

 ing steadily westward. 



" Just one more dive, and then for lunch," we said, and took 

 one, and yet one more leap into the laughing water. 



But at last we were satisfied, and left the pool, tingling and 

 glowing, to find a grassy knoll where we could sit and rest, 

 and have our lunch. The old drift-wood was soon ablaze, and 

 the chops were soon a-sizzling. There is no meat in the world 

 that tastes like a chop grilled over a drift-wood fire, and eaten 

 with the smell of the sea in one's nostrils. And when you 

 have earned your lunch by a three-mile walk over paddocks, 

 and an hour-long swim in the sea, you need no other sauce. 

 Then after lunch to lie on the short, dry grass, with the sun 

 warming us, and the breeze fanning us, while we gazed, now 

 seaward, to the white-capped waves, now shoreward to the 

 purple hills, and the paddocks, shimmering in the afternoon 

 light surely that were joy enough to still our voices, and 

 shed a silent mantle over us. 



The cows, gathering towards the upper paddocks, told us 

 that it was milking-time and time to go. So with a lingering 

 sigh we set our faces homeward along the seashore this time, 

 where the wet sand made firm walking, and already the first 

 pink glow of evening was beginning to paint the white wave 

 crests. 



